It is romantic, how I live
sitting alone in a diner in Queens
with scattered crazies talking to themselves
drinking coffee
staring at the bustle and hustle
of the rest of the city
rustling through the concrete jungle at quittin’ time.
I often dream of nostalgia
yet still find myself managing
to move forward with life.
I try not to follow form
try to stay still, silent
stand on the outs and watch
moments
all the thousands of wonderful
moments often missed by being too-something
A romantic as myself
lives within these simple moments of passing
One quixotic as myself
disregards the future
prefers to sit quietly
and fall in love
with everyone
and everything
every moment
af
(written with pen on paper)
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