I sit on my porch watch
them walk by so
many shapes sizes personalities yet
all so much the same where are they going? what are they up to? laughing
and talking among
themselves with
seemingly not a care
in the world sugar spice and
everything nice switched
into overdrive do they know I’m watching? or that I’m even alive? maybe
they’re watching me it’s
hard to tell when your
heart’s still at large cause
I’m just a teenage boy © 1973 Chris Sorrenti
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