Drifting between

So many worlds in this world
Every door opens to another world
Every table is another world
From work to school and home again
World to world to world

And every hour you’re awake
Different people hit the streets
The hollow can rattles in the alley at 4am
Then the newspaper delivery comes around 6
Poster boys with brushes and glue
Dash across dark streets with paper at 6:30
Schoolchildren in dapper uniforms or urban dress
Trot out with their business casual parents at 7:30
Then slowly the college kids roll out of bed
And we’re all having lunch around 1pm

An afternoon assignment at city hall
Brings you back to bygone architecture
Two hours later you’re back in the office
Corporate and digital as usual
Night, and you’re at home in Long Island.

Weaving through each place each day
You mold a kind of history
Developed in that place in time
When you did this and met these people
The books and stories that guided you then
Are also portals to other worlds
Wood between worlds
Worlds within worlds
Subworld and subculture all the way down

Then all the worlds are laid before you
And you drift through and find warm greetings
From every table filled with memories
And connections from those worlds

You know how to speak here
And you know how to speak there
Somehow transforming, playing a different role
When you pass each circle

And you find yourself
Capably knowing
Capably drifting
And never finding where
You belong.



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