Department of Sociology & Social Work
The plane leaves the ground and it carries me into the air over the city
of Newark. When I look down I see
patterns. Roofs aligned in rows.
Driveways, set in between the public
and private versions of ourselves.
Bluegrass lawns with the blades cut off
at two and three quarter inches. Roads
paved on a neat grid, able to carry us
away or home. From the window of the
plane I look down onto hope. Millions
of aspirations, set into groves among
the tamarack and pine.
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