Vagabond

It's the nights

where the night air

doesn't feel any different from the air inside

that I close my eyes

as I walk the streets home.


I imagine myself as a tightrope walker

in a faraway land,

or maybe a faraway year.


My arms spread wide

as I walk the emptied streets,

unafraid of who may be watching me.


The uncertainty of tomorrow

no longer bothers me.

All that matters is I am

walking in a straight line,

the night air that is cradling my body.


The springtime

is when I look forward

to these walks at night.

It's warm enough to take my time

but just chilly enough

to keep moving me forward.


Sometimes I dream somebody is watching me,

but I'm not sure if it's to my relief or disappointment

when I open my eyes

and realize that no one else is there.