Sidewalk
Cement. Pavement.
Ground pebbles and sand.
I shove my face up close
to notice textures and colors
not seen from my height.
I feel the surface scraping
ragged grooves into my flesh.
Rough. Rigid.
No pattern to the coarseness;
A barricade of hills
the ants must cross
to get to the grass on the other side.
A rainbow of colors;
brown, green, purple, and gray.
A glittering confetti of hues
forever bound by solidified sand.
Dirty. Dusty.
Do you ever tread this sidewalk, dear friend?
Where would you go,
would you walk alone?
Or perhaps,
with a companion or family?
Would you walk, trudge, or run?
I walk upon the sidewalk
to escape from where I once was.
I walk for some unknown destination.
The sidewalk is my causeway to neverwhere.
How far will it take me?
Identity
Steam rushes to greet
the mirror as I push
the shower curtain
open
so that I can wrap up in
my towel and begin what
was to be a normal
day.
Escape the wet and escape
the scalding heat that
suffocates, wrapping
me.
In my towel I feel
like a wet dog with limp, damp
hair as I move from bathroom to
bedroom.
Catcall. What was
that? I peek my pink
face around the
corner.
Mom sitting on the
couch with some strange
man I’ve never seen
before.
So that’s the source of
the aforementioned
awkward catcall. I
sigh.
He says, “Hello, Beautiful,”
as I stare blankly. Whatever, I
continue my scuttle to my
bedroom.
Mom motions me into the
living room and I resign, still in my
towel. She spoke, “This is your
father.”
I squirm in my seat and open
my mouth to give the only
response I know, “My dad is
Jordan.”
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