I Have News for You
There are people who do not see a broken playground swing as a symbol of ruined childhood
and there are people who don't interpret the behavior of a fly in a motel room as a mocking representation of their thought process.
There are people who don't walk past an empty swimming pool and think about past pleasures unrecoverable and then stand there blocking the sidewalk for other pedestrians.
I have read about a town somewhere in California where human beings do not send their sinuous feeder roots deep into the potting soil of others' emotional livesas if they were greedy six-year-olds sucking the last half-inch of milkshake up through a noisy straw;
and other persons in the Midwest who can kiss without debating the imperialist baggage of heterosexuality.
Do you see that creamy, lemon-yellow moon?
There are some people, unlike me and you,
who do not yearn after fame or love or quantities of money as
unattainable as that moon,
thus, they do not later have to waste more time defaming the object of their former ardor
or consequently run and crucify themselvesin some solitary midnight Starbucks Golgotha.
I have news for you—there are people who get up in the morning and cross a room and open a window to let the sweet breeze inand let it touch them all over their faces and bodies
There are people who do not see a broken playground swing as a symbol of ruined childhood
and there are people who don't interpret the behavior of a fly in a motel room as a mocking representation of their thought process.
There are people who don't walk past an empty swimming pool and think about past pleasures unrecoverable and then stand there blocking the sidewalk for other pedestrians.
I have read about a town somewhere in California where human beings do not send their sinuous feeder roots deep into the potting soil of others' emotional livesas if they were greedy six-year-olds sucking the last half-inch of milkshake up through a noisy straw;
and other persons in the Midwest who can kiss without debating the imperialist baggage of heterosexuality.
Do you see that creamy, lemon-yellow moon?
There are some people, unlike me and you,
who do not yearn after fame or love or quantities of money as
unattainable as that moon,
thus, they do not later have to waste more time defaming the object of their former ardor
or consequently run and crucify themselvesin some solitary midnight Starbucks Golgotha.
I have news for you—there are people who get up in the morning and cross a room and open a window to let the sweet breeze inand let it touch them all over their faces and bodies
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