A Nomadic Existence

Like our ancestors
We were once nomadic.
We lived off Wonderbread, sunflower seeds and cigarettes.
Nights sleeping in parking lots
when the moon looked
fuller in the light polluted sky.
The impulsive nature
of change,
the static
radio hush or the ebb and
flow of ocean waves,
the clumsiness of
cicadas or rattling leaves.

We were dreaming
Or lost,
when the hours swan by and
days felt no different.

-Sofia Rovirosa

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