Somehow sitting in a bar
In downtown Chicago
I lost a marker
Some reference point
Of my past
And possible future
As I sat alone
Hearing only faint drips
Of conversations around
I realized that moving about
Solo
Can be a strange event
Quiet event
Reflections
I realized some of my fears
The recurring ones
Are only created not intended
But must be understood
A marker is lost as we grow older
As new ones are set
But I still try to understand
The ones passing just like the rest