The spring confetti swirls in Fibonacci spirals
Over the hard concrete
As I disappear between worlds
At the end of the day.
I am for others and others are for me
But we have nothing in common otherwise,
Just the situation, where agreements were made,
Our names are our own, signed, but, really
We have no inkling of why we are here
Or who needs to use us to speak.
So the crack seems almost natural,
The place for all the cool people to go
To not be seen. The world outside our senses
Turns to gold decorative foil, hard to peel away
But once the edge is found
There's no limit to how much can be removed.
