Walking Away …
growing up
i took a lot
of walks
especially
in the flame
of summer
it was a way
to think
my own thoughts
and let go
of the breath
i’d been holding
as if i were under
water
walking was different
than running
i loved running
‘cause it felt like flying
but sometimes
i didn’t have it in me
to run
walking didn’t require
much
i could drag my feet
along
if it was too tough
to lift ‘em
off the ground
i’d take off walking
to each dead-end
sign
and turn back around
yearning for the quiet
of trees
there was no screaming
or constant cussing
no slamming doors
or flying objects
no broken glass
or violent fists
no silent tears
streaming down
the mirror
or seeping into the pillow
there was a stillness
in the grass
the wing of a bird
brushed against the sky
a pasture of horses
across the street
that knew me
knew somehow i needed ‘em
they’d stand out there
withstanding the worst
of weather
i’d watch ‘em
out the school bus
window
bracing for impact
whenever i took a walk
my walking always
led to them
and whenever they’d see me
coming down the road
they’d stop
whatever they were doing
and move toward me
in a graceful gait
they’d let me pet ‘em
on the head
and feed ‘em apples
they belonged to the people
who lived in the big ‘ole house
in the middle of a lot of land
edged by miles
of wooden fence
i would makeup stories
in my head
‘bout the folks who lived there
and they were always …
happy
i was a daydreamer
my whole life
no matter where i was
or what i was doing
alone or in public
i was daydreaming
it was a way
to cope with chaos
like all those walks
i took
down that long stretch of dirt
from one dead-end sign
to the other
and back around
to the pasture
where the unicorns
were waiting
for me
TL