will it?

Standard

in a hundred years will the sun
finally reach down to the
spot i’ve found on this sidewalk
this sidewalk so full, so insane
with all the busy lunchtime folks
talking on phones and searching for sushi
looking at me quizzically, why is she smiling?
i’m immobilized as i look up into
the patches of blue peeping like
a sunroof in the city ceiling
the notion of motion changes
as quickly as sunspots
on lunchtime venues
take your five minutes you find
on the street in the sun
and praise this gift of reality
while you still can

in a hundred years will it be
remembered, this pain i felt
of unrequited lust? will a
document survive telling
of the misery i felt just a few
days ago or the innocence of
a kiss i felt a few months ago?
will someone see the giggling
resignation on my face as
i recognize the err of my
impulsive hormonal ways?
i think instead it will all sort
of just melt into a river of
time as these pages yellow
and tatter and tear, as hard
as i may try to keep my thoughts
safe, some words will bleed
out of my impressions and some
will retain the sharp edges
with which i wrote them
maybe some will hold keys of the
mysteries of the river of life
for someone, sometime or somwhere

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