Where It Should Be

Why does the world go by in such a hurry? - nothing wants to stand still!
Even the notes from the saxophone drift by me on the breeze to somewhere else
and the fingers of the man playing it are never still
 - up and down the keys they go; like the wasp - they never settle.
Shadows hurry by me; only faster than the people who made them
and the tempting smell from the KFC is on the wrong side of the road; and so crosses to my senses!

Nobody - nothing, seems to be where it should be!

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