perhaps eventually, you'll get one untethered hour
to have lunch
not long enough to actually go somewhere
just long enough to sit and trace your finger
along the path that brought you here.
you'll lean up on that bleak office building wall
the harsh, cold concrete bleeding through your jacket
deeply breathing in the thick, grey smoke
looking up at the grey, frozen sky
and remember, those plans you had at 17
those dreams of flying close to the sun and becoming one with it
looking so boldly overexposed with the rolled up blunt
and this cigarette, looking so long-hair-gelled-back-sunglasses cool
your thirty minutes have evaporated
and it's time to go back inside
you console yourself with the fleeting thought:
you couldn't have gone very far
anyways.
