leave it

2004-01-19
It's like a mirror tilting light across your worst side. I stare and stare but nothing forms the shape I desire. I'm rid of it in anyway. Chalk outlines and all. I've begun to sketch a line away from it. In some direction, I know. Or don't. But to think that it's going somewhere is good enough for me.

There is a dust that settles every time and is left in memories that are found only on the bottom of our feet. It all falls like snow when you want to catch them but dries once you let them pass. So just release them, I say. I choose not to bother with what I am stepping on. Footprints are seen only by those left behind.