I’m not wearing the right shirt.
A break from the molding of minds
Unclear of what the sculpture should resemble
I give it to the clay to solve
Another drop of unwanted sweat rolls down my back as I walk the previous moment off
The sun is between beauty and misery
Empty pockets pursue the shop-filled streets
Eyes glazed over in choice, a temporary amnesia of what is
Or perhaps a homecoming to what always was
I enter the store
I buy nothing
I do it again
