So things are not the way they used to be. So what if I still listen to Bob Marley and daydreams of summertime only always. Another man once said through flutes that all love comes from the creator. As I sit on my stoop I wonder am I alone again. Once I was lost but now I’m found the song said. Was blind but now I see. But who sees me I ask. Under breath. Probably not even breathing enough. Heart beating too fast. But who sees me. I poke my toe through the hole in my shoe and spit into the bushes watching as the sun sets. But who sees me.

What was that shit that Kerouac called? Where the words spewed puke blue and green? Another side of the sun I stared looking for the backside trying to rotate around dizzy. I wept after unable to see the ham sandwich my mother packed for lunch. What a dismal day in rain and watery eyes. Thinking back to youth as the water drips down hair in my eyes. So old so cold so little to care about. Again it goes sad. I am sorry about that.