An angry young male trudges through the smog and dust of Atlanta. What life does one have outside of their work? If they have no work? No magnum opus on the horizion? Many frustrations create agitations. Only the strong can endure the preparation just for living, although that is not the goal ; merely the hope and illusion. The truth is never apparent until it is too late. Stained glass like the church windows at your wedding. The memory is nice, but all you have is now. All you have is here. All you have is so far.

So how can we move forward when we can't see but inches away? How can we prepare for the rain when we don't have an umbrella? Frustration sets in.

I see myself going nowhere. All I can do is move and hope to get somewhere. Events beyond my control.

I like her, I wonder if she likes me. I wonder what could be, what cannot be, if I can do what I have to do. Sometimes the world leaves me behind and I wonder what can be, reciting crappy poetry.