The long stretch of sidewalk has an intangible vanishing point
And with every step of these threadbare shoes,
worn to the soles and cling to me like skin,
hours boil down to the length of a pop song
as each step ushers in a new era.
I meddle with a cold cut house key
in the clammy warmth
of my fleece-lined pockets.
It is both comforting and useless;
I find a home in every stranger's house
I place my shoes on their welcome mats
And they offer me a seat or a coat or a drink.
These happy homes hang in my peripheral,
but I am propelled like a wind-up toy to move forward.
As unconscious as breathing
As controlled as a marionette
I am not permitted to hover,
and so I keep walking