Too many

the world is too big. Too many avenues and undiscovered allies off the avenues and river streets flowing cars and the allies threading off the streets. It’s become an amoeba, a toilet bowl of ideas, a mass souped together, it’s become a stew. There’s too many of us. How will we all make it?
I hear squeaky shoes down the streets, ghost winds through brick veins and I have to look down at the one pebble, an island to a concrete sea. I have to look down at one small thing to feel grounded.

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