I still haven’t found what I came here for
and I haven’t talked to anyone in
ages. My watch shows not the time but
rather increments that guide how we
decide to split up moments between the
sun rising and setting. A way to decipher
an order to this world and add purpose
to our actions. To give us a sense of
urgency. The illusion that time is
always running out. It seems the words would
only fall out of my mouth rather than
be spoken. From a distance I knew we
had something in common, something mind
altering to the core. Every blink of
my eye reveals a new face to recognize.
Among the bustle with each passing moment,
a new accent can be heard, a new
language to be learned. A layered synth
covered in chords. If I listen close enough,
I can hear a new song among them. And
listening even closer reveals their
true melodies, the tempo in which they
live their lives. The tree limbs bend from the wind,
but I can’t be too certain about that
since they aren’t the only thing that has come
alive. The grass, a vivid green. The type
of green only seen in cartoons
accompanied by a bright baby blue
sky, soft as lotion. My vision tunnels
to green and blue, green and blue, green and blue.

Green and blue with a touch of brown from the
bases of trees that stretch up to
overgrown pieces of broccoli. Painted
dots of yellow from sporadic sunflowers
poke from the ground, a polka-dotted dress
dancing in the wind. Dandelion fuzz
floats through the air with hand-blown bubbles, like
snow flurries mixed with giant rain drops. Each
bubble catches the sun behind it,
a rainbow of colors bounce from the top
of the sky and back down to the ground as
the wind carries each laugh and conversation off
like a lost balloon. My only solitude
comes from the music in the distance.
A place like this has a tendency to
encourage my urge to feel like I play
a role in this world. As if there is a
certain order to the chaos around us.
Days here can seem like weeks or months, but
only with the right influence.