On Having Places to Be and What It Is to Be

Younger me often looked out

the window of a Volvo station-wagon

well past its years

beaten and broken

as it chugged along numerous American highways

where trees and grass and crops and

life itself

littered themselves aside the road

each with no place to be

and just as mere scenery.

Younger me often looked out

the window of a Volvo station-wagon

questioning if

the trees and grass and crops and

life itself

knew its place

knew it was sitting at the side of a road

as scenery

while vehicles of transportation dashed by

“each with places to be, of course”

surely would have said younger me

Older me is still a young me

but young me was even younger

and older me stood by the highway the other day

and watched the vehicles ride the road

with their places to be

and wondered

“am I scenery?”

as I have no place to be.

Yet I must wonder

as the trees and grass and crops and

life itself

looks upon the speeding cars

I must wonder if they saw younger me

through the window of a Volvo station-wagon

If they would have said to me

“Where do you think that you must be?”

As I faded away from them and became

their scenery.

Philosophy Student at Rochester Institute of Technology. I write/write about: Poems, Philosophy, Games, Art, Music, and anything I can wrap my brain around.

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