and before I resume writing my paper for school, because I am sitting at home and have been all day struggling, because I am restless and bored, because I cant concentrate or appreciate the cup of tea beside me, the absolute quiet in my apartment right now, the view of the newly painted manhattan mini storage sign or the sun sort of coming through the window in my kitchen.
Because no one can truly appreciate where they are, I wanted to write an homage to all the places I am not:
Not in an office, all stuffy and gray, struggling to tell a client why they cant have their way.
Not on the street, roaming and sad, with nothing to do but get into something bad.
Not about to give a lecture to a room full of people, all nervous and sick, watching the clock for each ugly tick.
Not in a factory, all stripped of my individuality.
Not in a hospital starting at the ceiling, wondering why I have this terrible feeling.
Not too cold or too warm, or too bold or too forlorn.
Just sitting here, sipping my tea, not in need or absurd or a black eyed me.
Sip, type, sip, type, type, sip.