Boots worn to nubs, the scratch scratch
of a lack of rubber on pavement again,
again, again along a road straighter
than anything you’ve ever seen
in the entire universe. You recall
a time when you stood on a balcony,
looked out over—something, you no
longer remember what—but you stood,
did not walk, walk, walk, and with each
step that memory gets a touch more faint.
A few more steps and there will be peace
again, peace and endless, endless pavement.