Walk these streets
<< 9:23 p.m. - Wednesday, Oct. 22, 2008 >>
And so it goes that I walk these streets again,
this time between the fading asphalt and the night sky
which remains lit �
it�s borders softened with blue.
The heel of my shoe is worn thin enough
that the impact of bone and concrete runs up by body and into my jaw.
Kindly knocking me back into the action of movement.
Me moving.
Me alone but not lonely.

And as I pass these now empty, but still bright offices,
I find myself thinking very little about them,
and much more about where my life is.
Right outside these windows,
right here traversing my little city.
Where you fit in here, I am not sure,

But I find now, as I always find myself,
not being sure.
The difference is distance.
And the small distrust of my inner heart,
now bruised and less innocent,
will inexplicably be found telling itself fictional stories,
the kind that sew together hopes
and that seal the cracks in the raft that keeps me afloat.
If the glue fails me, and the clich� stitches are broken later on,
I fear floundering in the water again.

Between drowning and swimming,
I am floated, buoyed,
and relearning a knowledge I may have already possessed.
I can do nothing more but exist on this tenuous surface tension
and keep my palms open.