Walking home,
admiring a hovering
thick darkness;
Merciless crystals
of frozen vapor
to bury my breathe.
The deafness of night
hums on power lines;
prowling like a kitten
beneath fresh blankets;
Static electricity exciting
my every follicle; I cringe.
And every blank step
of miniscule purpose;
I believe. Yes, please.
I believe in this.
But where in this
world will I arrive,
“walking home,”
so far from this;
too far to walk—
yet still
I go. And though I know
every blank step
of miniscule purpose
will never add up—
will never amount
to memories of this
I begin to forget.
the forgetting swells
too loud and my darkness
murmurs remembrance
soft as shoeprints.
I fall backwards,
unaware of where
I go.

written on 02/17/2012 by: Matt Kane