I used to jump over the cracks on the elevator,
and pick up the pennies.
Now I don't even notice the gaps
or the copper shine among the grey.

Every day is full of strangers
and strangers are full of the every-day.

From the bus I compose stories
for him and her and them.
But they stay mine.

Imagination.
I'll walk in roads to avoid a ladder.

29/11/2011
17.15