Plummeting downward,

The weather is quite nice today.

The strange faces are peering out their windows from the safety of their desks and chairs.

I count the people on the sidewalk, but they are as numberless as ants,

Scattering in every direction, holding their load.

My shadow grows larger,

But seems to remain the same.

I feel as if I'll never hit the ground.

And if I did, I would get up, dust myself off,

And do it all again.

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7/7/2002