Creating Footsteps
Can you see where my footsteps have gone?
In the grit of New York where faces blur into the background passing them on the sidewalk.
Where an attempted robbery took place on the beach of Barcelona, and where a man was wrapped in foil near the canals of Venice.
That is where I have been.
Do you see my footsteps in the square of Santa Fe where the old man screams and cries about the last seven years of his life? Do you see them where the flamenco dancer performs in Sevilla and beg for money after the shows?
You can find my footsteps there.
Have you walked on the beach of San Sebastian and seen the beach grow in a single day to twice the size and divide itself in half again?
I have swung my head over the balconies of Alabama and wished that tomorrow would not greet me.
You might be able to see my footsteps in the sand of Megan’s Bay where the clear fish with the blue snout is still hovering close by.
Or maybe you are gliding along the English Channel that sprayed my face with salt water
At the Greek restaurant in Paris where they gave us three menus to share between eight. On the cobblestone pathway around the corner you could be speaking to the artist who was paid to sketch me.
That’s you waking up, opening your eyes, and realizing that yesterday was one more day that you have cashed in.
Was it worth it?