As I developed, they shaped me,
as if I had been a block of clay
sitting there on the jagged concrete of
unpaved streets and endless roads.

My future form dependent on
the timing of passing strangers'
beginnings and endings,
their risings in the mornings
like the blue and orange horizon
spreading in preparation for the sun's presence,

And their settling back in the evenings,
like cool salty clouds of white sea foam
collapsing back into the ocean's
gray waves.

In each moment passing by
like a kid riding a bicycle, speeding down
the cracked pavement and
turning the corner out of site,

I was shaped by
the flurry of life that surrounded
every person's presence.

Picked up, tossed into the air,
and kicked by small children with bright eyes
and tongues that stuck out when
adults were unfair,

Colored, spray painted and scribbled on
by teenagers with messy dark curls,
wild laughing eyes,
and rapidly budding senses,

Observed, analyzed, discussed, and compared
by businessmen in jet black suits
and smooth red ties,
who pondered cutting me evenly
into perfect pieces for sale on the market,

Rolled, polished, scrubbed clean,
and spiced by rapid tongued mothers
wearing aprons and holding long
wooden cooking spoons,

Eroded, left to absorb a vast amount of salt
from teary eyes and bleeding wounds,

Caught on blazing, fiery fumes
of a man's raging anger,

Soaring high in the sky, resting on clouds
of someone's love and faith,

Trapped low in the ground,
sleeping in a bed of dried dirt filled with
people's sorrows and dreariness,

Drowning in purple satin
of one's longing
and unsatiated desires,

Chained to a planet
spiraling out of control in a universe
that couldn't bear to let go.