Sax
On East State Street,
the muted blare of distant traffic
runs through,
the thoughts in his mind.
Against
the sunny graphic
reflections of chrome memories,
a bird flys unfenced
three stories
past the parking meters queue,
He looks away.
Intertwined
in the shade of the glass windowed
buildings the day
is strumming
with jazz notes afloat
and with the feeling
it is alert enough
to stop at the tri colored traffic light.
The light turns green.
The saxaphone,
a comet
of comfort
ephemeral and seen,
pulses through him
as he keeps walking shoulder
to shoulder
alone
with time.
the muted blare of distant traffic
runs through,
the thoughts in his mind.
Against
the sunny graphic
reflections of chrome memories,
a bird flys unfenced
three stories
past the parking meters queue,
He looks away.
Intertwined
in the shade of the glass windowed
buildings the day
is strumming
with jazz notes afloat
and with the feeling
it is alert enough
to stop at the tri colored traffic light.
The light turns green.
The saxaphone,
a comet
of comfort
ephemeral and seen,
pulses through him
as he keeps walking shoulder
to shoulder
alone
with time.
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