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discussing space and size and shelves, height depth and width, makes me wonder-

in a world of growing gulfs and shrinking distances
sprouting buildings and widening roads
flowering trees and raging seas
big smiles and bigger handshakes
bigger voices and bigger laughter wit and sarcasm
and knowing-it-all-genuinely

walking tall, pinstripes and stiletto heels
walking everywhere, windswept hair and kajal eyed
with a reason, in a direction, with confidence

in a world with more and more corners
more walls, glitter and sparkle
more things to bury faces in
more things to say out loud - instead
a lump in your throat as a fashionable cough
where time is at a premium
where company is abundant
but nothing can really shake away that feeling
that at the end of the day, end of it all, really,
you are, you know,
like, yeah, you're
alone

yeah

in that feeling, here and now,
short and slim and small and stubby
a solitary nondescript being

how much space do i really occupy in the world?