My sneakers, unlike me, lack the audacity to mythologize their
life. They are simply insipidly entranced, not nearly human enough to
comprehend the passage of time, or fear, or the onslaught of the
fragility of it all. They are leather and cloth, as each morning I choke
hold them, in a tight embrace of the laces. Their life, held firmly in
the perfused smell of a wretched sweat. I push them harder, then they
need to be pushed, them, being compliant in the exertion. Each one, one
more step closer between heaven and hell, as mesh and sole reshape on each
step of a stone.
The natural temperament of my sneakers today, a slow and steady pace.
Just enough cool crisp air, as a deer studies the bone structure of my
face. Terracing down towards the river, sun organically falling from the
ceiling, I bath in the rays. Birds with elephant ears grab hold of my
whispers, as chosen secrets spill in silent confession. The earth rolls over each sneaker, laces, left abandoned.....no way in, no way out......
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