The Lines
I walk unevenly.
My steps more erratic than
the cracks
in sidewalks. They follow
the pattern of closed eyes
and land irreverently, shifting
upon the foundation of a
curved Earth.
Shirking timing
my heart beats between
replacing the second impact with
a rest. (two, three, four)
If there is a path,
if I have found it,
can you promise,
swear to God, that
the stumbling the
swerving the toes
out of bounds the
false understanding
of uneven ground
stop?
Tell me it stops.
Because it’s not as simple as right foot, left, so on and so forth.
Believe me I’ve tried. The goal of getting from Point A to Point B
is efficiency and not to seem as if you are a tightrope performer.
So what’s worse? Rigid or wobble?
Just tell me it stops.
