I ought to write
something about
today before my
feet betray the
desire to remember,
hot water washing
away the caked,
discolored
soreness that comes
of laughter and
adventure and walking
step after step
through neighborhoods
that change like
seasons.
It reminds me of
a movie we saw recently:
the father and son
walking along the beach,
stepping on wet rocks.
They forgot the camera,
and said, “We’ll
just have to remember.”
Typical, maybe, but I’d
like my feet to
do the same once
the blisters heal
and my shoes are thrown
under the table
next to yours.
