looking through the glass
two stories from the street
i see no vista, vast
just corners where roads meet
a frantic life could be at ease
but the cars and trucks: incessant
i never hear a mountain breeze
just disturbances domestic
could a trail or run or even beer
remove me from this world, on screech?
i feel no sense of home right here
the life i want is....
just out of reach
kp
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