we are stuck in traffic
because we forgot we can fly.
never more alone,
than when we sit at the table together,
looking in our plate.
we lack the simplicity
of bending to tie our shoelaces
on an almost empty sidewalk,
with no care that we are closely watched,
by a stranger as hurried as us.
we are hostile with one another,
for we fear taking off
our beautiful clothes,
that hide our imperfection.
we are poor because we don’t give.
the thought of tomorrow tires us more
than the race of the barely ended today –
there’s no change on the horizon.
we love the sheet’s warmth,
for nobody can steal our dreams.
never more free
than when the wind blows our hair,
and the sand softly flows through our fingers.
we forgot we can fly,
and that is why we are stuck in traffic.