walking to school

it’s those contented puffs of steam up from the sewers
and the slick coldnesses on the outside of my front teeth,
so mysterious i can’t stop sliding my tongue over them,
that convince me of the day’s potential. it’s not the same
as posting a letter or finally submitting a résumé, not like
taking a night class, not like picking up painting again.
it’s more like crying on a lunch break or sitting at home
letting tea grow cold: those actions that aren’t worth much,
not on the surface, but still appear to me in retrospect
as having been lit with the gleam of unspoken insight,
the soft promise of self-awareness that comes and goes.

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6 thoughts on “walking to school

  1. and you know why, my dear brother, those small acts are lit with unspoken insight? because you see beauty and inspiration in many of those good things of every day life that other people dont see and possibly take for granted.

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