i could sit
at home in
a room filled with
images of life
produced
station after station
show after show
handing me life
without the
vividness or the
vibes
so i go out
to breathe the bad
air and smell the real
world and
see real people doing
real things that
lead nowhere special
except to life in the
moment
i walk a bit
along michigan avenue
then stop and stare
because it's an art
gallery where
the extraordinary is
just the ordinary
and has far more
to tell me
about the lives
we live
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem