Question is a word?

Yesterday I came to the stop sign at the end of “my” street. As I primed to take a left, is that to make a turn, do I leave a right?

Abruptly actualized

a situation arised

I didn’t recognize

The ambient air and lights

With not another conveyance urging me forward, no one else was going anywhere, I just sat

I got out of my shell, stood in the street. These American houses, wide roads, summer heat. I hear either the sound of a distant police or the beginning of Welcome to the Jungle. Waiting for the beat

I’ve never really been here before

You won’t get there for free

For 15 years I’ve lived on this path, stopped here a thousands pasts

A pause and glance.

That commuters slow dance

I couldn’t have said in truth til this chance

Here I am. And here I stand.

The larger your world, the larger you are

At home.

Make it so.

Wherever you may roam

3 thoughts on “Question is a word?”

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