mostly cliche

I think it was last Sunday
When I saw this fellow sitting at the table outside
Patio-seating finished with his coffee and reading a book
Just taking up space

Today is Sunday.
And I see the exact same man but he looks 30 years older now
But I just know - I just know that's him
Same look of restless wonder with the world
Same content yet dissatisfied innovation

Some go left and some go right
Why can't I just look you in the eye
And let that be enough?
Some push through and some stand still
But I don't know why it matters
Oh I wonder why it matters to me at all

I write the first thing that I think
Say the first words that I see
There's no other way to go for me
I watch behind a camera's lens
I watch for words, I watch for someone's life story to come to me

Come pictures and come fireflies
Come muses singing lullabies
Come put it down, come set it right
Come all at once or with the night behind you
Asking you
What could all this mean?