puddlejumping


I just experienced the realization,
that walking alone just isn't
romantic anymore. 

I put each foot
in front of its only friend, 
imagining 
that someone watches me walk, 
that someone wants to discover
my destination.

I don't know where it is,
but suddenly I notice;
I am near your door.

Time burns slowly down. 
Cigarette smoulders along with it, 
as thoughts drift through muddy
curtains of doubt:

I wonder if love affairs
are equivilent to mopping
the floor on a rainy day?

I have discovered so many things
in so few years, and still there
is so much left. There must be,
or I'd just stop walking one day.

I have taken many steps through life,
and I have stepped in many puddles,
and tonight I think I'll stop by.

I'll take my boots off first.
back. . .