WALKING

as my feet scrape over abandoned chunks
of rubble from the narrow sidewalk,
i am still warm
having just jumped through the door,
either getting away
or coming back
to something I left
a long time ago.

i leave civilization as the park path
splits, but even so early, as the sky seems lit by dull fluorescent lamps,
there are
noises, the heavy bus giving a gritty sigh
from deep within, the shopping cart crunching the sidewalk,
chewing it as cereal is ground by molars.

the birds' little squeaks and quivers are
dimming, giving way to urban shuffles, but
i am not to blame, having ripped the jingling bracelets
from my wrist
before I left.

though suffocated in rubber soles, my feet
seep through to the earth below the cracked crust of pavement, and
since no one has claimed it before, it is
my earth for my toes to dig into.

turning my hunched back to the park, stale beer and
mutters from SUVs weave themselves a filthy cloth,
constricting every passerby in a slimy coat.

now where tree branches wear
caution tape bandanas and
flaky posters overlap on walls of plywood,
i regret leaving where
the sparrows at least twittered
in fear of being abandoned.