thoughts down North Tryon
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run my hands through my thinning hair
see wrinkles in my smiling eyes in the mirror
there's no way he's only eighteen
hands grasp more and more as they grow older
neckties, gravity, and flesh
thick layers of hair pulling between finger
see water pour over more of me in the shower
the many schools, they forget me
rusting fences around the many fields hold more than air in
hold the faces and the fists of the boys from the neighborhood
now walking with bags of Education strapped to their backs
feet banging on 
sidewalk    downtown I see faces determined on The Hill
figuratively trying to miss the cracks and the lines on the concrete
so set
they miss each building crumble and fall towards the freeway
we get old in seconds
back in a chair i'm a reflection of inspiration
going at the paper for no one
about a younger and smaller image of myself
time was once an understood tan line on my wrist
it began daily on the weekends
and ran with me around in circles on a new york street
now it makes my clothes get older
sitting beside my bed in my sleep
sidewalk runs about as far as the coastline
see themselves drown as it ends deep in the sea
following each other like lemmings
I panic and pick up my raincoat
spilling, my dreams take me as far from here as they'll let me
CHAIR, allows me to see the mess of thought I make here
conscious I make sense in my rain clothes
seeing back when an offset bike chain was stress