Sleep-walking

A Chavi Ludlow (mamút)

When I’m walking fast-foot as I go, faster than anyone can go, I know deep down I’m being released from something unshown.

Crossing the empty park, now that the daily lights have faded, the street lamps are unnoticed; my eyes just follow the wet, scratched pavement.

Fretless, my safety is the unstoppable fastness of these feet; the night, unguarded of such steps won’t reach, anyway, my bed, my house, my late night labour or insomniac vices.

Here, as I walk cheating the expanding darkness, crossing, still, this park; my blurry mind goes from politics, to poem, to job, to worthless, to love (sometimes), to tennis shoes, to dog’s poop.

Yet I know the street’ll come triggering one of those unfortunate moments of worldly awareness.