Walk

Seek.
That's what I was born to do.
I cannot shake this feeling.
It's growing from somewhere deep and blue.

The midnight lights flicker.
The sounds crackle.
I walk barefoot on the road.
Side stepping pot-holes as I go.

The air is hot and heavy.
Stray dogs simply look and turn away.
I berak a branch off a tree.
I prod the ground with the raw, ripped end.
I sit on the footpath and see the night unfold.

I see the morning begin its slow walk.
Lazy.
Hazy.
A walk towards another day of mundane frenzy.
Of regular irregularity.
Familiarity.
Sounds of the approaching light prod me.
I walk home.