half empty lighters and dirty binkies beside the street curb:

these are the only litter i like to see.

reminds me that theres life going on around me.

but theres a graveyard connected to this side street,

with headstones carved from granite with medieval tools,

and im reminded again of the finality of the end.

except im grateful this time to have the chance at being the alive one of the bunch.

so ill dance with those deceased before my parents met,

and pay my dues with toes removed from the grassy knoll lumps;

sorry for treading, thanks for being here.

to enjoy a casual seat on the bench,

and admire what once was the fluttering fabric of this city,

is to use their leftover energy wisely.

dog runs across the local park in pursuit of a sphere,

and the airplane overhead makes it hard to think for a second,

but i can still hear the metal nametag on her collar jiggle like wind chimes;

could this all just be in my head?

theres such a magnificent juxtaposition between domesticity and exploration in salem.

dog walkers and kids riding bikes around the gravel pathways,

looking for a brick wall to lean against.

so perhaps ive crafted this balance in my cranium.

and then emotional turmoil will interrupt before i have the chance to really feel out that possibility.