Throughout the asphalt inner city core,
the struggles for attainment and success
are hemmed in clutter and the crowded floor,
the fear of losing driven by noblesse.
The workers in this hive with deft command
can navigate the paper and the pace,
they know that only rested minds can stand
the pressures of the job and making chase.
On weekends these marauders slow it down,
they make their way to open space, withdrawn
from paper jungles or the tux and gown,
and search for solitude and dreams foregone.
he succeeds in blending in,
while he waxes nonchalant.
Indeed, he'd rather be
anything but recognized,
just another sapling
camouflaged by the forest.
Every now and then
he is freed from his cocoon
and shows brilliantly
his talent for spectacle,
as crippling stage fright
releases its hold on him
ever so slightly.
Whispers become raucous songs,
telling the world, "Look at me!"
Jack has published over 350 poems in his career, many with his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana.