running through the city

nonstop

keep moving beautiful scenery 

under the awnings soaked by rain

sidewalks not flat enough to discourage puddles and pools

trees shaking 

they look greener today

stretching out further

look up to the sky for a momentary break

clouds moving through

blue sky backdrop

cool air

but with footsteps on the pavement 

quickly

passing by

passing by the scenery

heart beating fast

too quick to stop for streetlights

cars

run up stairs into the heavens

jump over ledges

cliffs 

high points until

flying through the air and back on the ground

cool air pierces inside

and the watery windows reflection

passing a glance

at the movement 

continuing down the street

through parks 

and lonely streets 

alley ways and curved corners

to the edges of the world 

and then back 

leaves flutter

as eyes look ahead warmly

sidewalk whispers

walk on the gravel full of sparkles 

shining pavement

as each step passes

a light flashes into view

creating shadows

that cast your feet as mirror images upon the ground

ever think of how they make this sidewalk?

filled with stardust

like walking through the night sky

if we could walk along the stars

do they collect the brightness in someone’s eyes

the little bit of light that catches

do they find an artificial substitute 

that glimmers just the same

when evening turns to night

and the walkers return to their subterranean homes

but something about this sparkle

this magic mesmerizes

hypnotizing the step after step

and until you look down

realizing the ground you stand on

no longer twinkles

and instead the smoothness of a piece of stone

is what you see

concrete crags and rocks so tiny we can barely see them

still they whisper

giving us secret stories of other times

and tell us 

please listen 

because i have so much i have seen

so much i can give

nonfiction fantasy

there’s a point where the fiction and nonfiction begin to blur

cross over 

into something 

unreal

real

stories and words 

that you can’t make you

they make up

a devisive narrative 

confusing

twisting

contorting facts

looking in the mirror doesn’t seem like such a farse now

reflection is that what it is?

the confusion is palpable 

like you could hold it in your hand

gelatinous sack of goo

i look at it like you look at a dirty bathroom 

how do you even clean this shit?

like go for bleach or use the natural cleaning products 

it’s not about being squeamish now

it’s beyond abstract art

or deconstructed piles of wood

am i looking at a tree?

i don’t even know how to tell the difference from the reality and the knock off one

yet here we are

capital of surrealism

and wondering 

wandering 

in half dream states

blurry at the edges

names you can’t remember 

suddenly from the back of your mind they spring forward 

and it’s like finding something on the ground that doesn’t match the setting 

can it go the other way though?

can we find starlight on the sidewalk for when we need it?

like when our hearts need relief?