The Way Things Are

I'm standing in the same place where I had stood four months ago,
On the corner where the tram tracks bend after the bridge.
Does anybody do this kind of a thing?
Standing in a place where their heart was beating fast one day?

So many people are passing by right now,
Just like they did on that Monday afternoon,
They are all heading to the mall, to buy things,
But we don't need to buy things, right?
Some are impossible to obtain like that.

Dora was the messenger and she then wanted to check if I was still alive,
I was more than fine, never better, but I suddenly felt like flying.
I used to hate that very time of the year, well, yes, just because,
But that time there was nothing wrong about it and I like to remember it.

I then developed a strange sort of a fantasy, like I used to,
Or I believe so because comedies told me it worked that way.
Does anybody do this kind of a thing?
Seeing the pattern between ten years ago and now, in reverse?

So many people are passing by right now,
Just like on that summer first of the month,
They are running to the mall, to see the decorations,
But we don't need no decorations, right?
Some are incredibly pretty the way they are.

Dora was on Messenger and she wanted to check if I had dropped my phone,
I was more than fine, never better, and I walked up to the bench, smiling.
I used to hate things happening when I'm out and about, well, because,
But that time they were welcome and I didn't feel scared about it.

- November 27th, 2016


the-way-things-are

The closest to "light and fluffy" that the poetry on this blog is ever going to get to.

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