there are simple clues . we all can see that anchor . our reality
in a found item . oddly placed, there are stories . i will never know
i don’t know the names . but i might know the stories . they each left behind
to build a story we will place antique items where they don’t belong
sometimes a story has an obvious ending that’s still a surprise
on the boulevard there’s a concrete gardener with untold stories
a weathered back door has better stories to tell than the polished front
sit with me a while we’ll tell each other stories and we’ll understand
there’s always a place to share your story; or to just sit and listen
we live our stories based on all of the things that we might not notice
uptown jack 