The Walk

The 
walk
is
long. 

And painful, 
and tedious... - 

Blistered feet, 
bruised heels. 
Truckers safely in their seats. 
Their trucks roll by
fast
eclipsing the light. 
They send me near death experiences... -

In my mind. 

I am safe, 
though the fear is primal. 
Every time a car goes by
I think 
this is it. 
Is this it? 

Dew drops soaking through my sneakers. 
My dollar store ankle socks 
were white
Now?
Now they are brown. 
A cold breeze whips against my face.
Frigid.
The winter will be rough. 

I hate this walk. 
I hate it. 
I hate it.
I hate... 

Oh, 
but by Gods and Goddesses 
and all things divine and natural...-

I see the world in the hours, before all other wake, 
as it was made to be. 

The trees, 
the sky beginning to burn as my body does too, 
the stars, 
the sun rising and falling, 
following me throughout my day. 
It's all so glorious, 
so beautiful. 
Nature is my saving grace. 

And before I know it,
the beauty escapes again
as I sprint
across
the street.
No cross walk in site. 

I enter 
A
corporate
nightmare
of noise
and nonsense. 

I'll do again tomorrow.

By L.A. Pasquarelli

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