I can't quite see the River from the train as once I could
except between the buildings rich people reside in, hogging up the view I once
assumed we were all entitled to, the change rattling in my pocket for when I
will stop for coffee I no longer need to become awake, my bag hanging for my
side, an artificial appendage I have come so used to I would rather lose an arm
than abandon it, notepad, cell phone, assortment of pens with which I steer the
direction of my life, aching for a glimpse of a river I am not rich enough to
possess for myself
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