a shared thought

in a bedroom somewhere there is a child listening to the freeway as she slips into slumber. the child imagines the world outside as it may be. Trees and street-lamps, clouds and stars. the child imagines another child like herself in one of the cars on the freeway.

she is looking out of the rear window up and the same moon with the same halo of clouds wondering if in one of the houses near the edge of the freeway there is a child like her, thinking and dreaming about the same strange world.

from one of the distant stars in the sky another child gazes upward into the vastness of the milky way. she wonders if their are other children somewhere who are looking up at the same sets of stars, sharing her thoughts and weaving the same dreams.

quarter

the quarter lay there wedged between the girder and the concrete. the crowds pass close by unaware of the small treasure. the quarter spends its days weighing the value of currency in exchange for for purposeful ponderings. everyday for a few minutes it catches a glimpse of the sun just before the foot traffic wanes to a stop for the evening. adjacent buildings are eventually turned down and rebuilt in dynamic sweeping fashion. the roads and train tracks ascend higher, weaving through the skyline. the clacking of foot traffic transforms into a melodic hum. the quarter remains an isolated entity in a sea of change.