i walk fast. At times, with a spring in my step. Only that spring is reserved for those who make me feel bouncy inside. Buoyant. i walk slow, sometimes, to accommodate the lesser or more relaxed gait of others- which is difficult for me- but i am willing. Not everyone is in the same hurry i am to get nowhere fast.
i walk into fences and branches and situations- sticky ones- and i walk into messes and secret meetings and awkward moments. i walk into hearts and minds and thoughts. i walk into put downs to, into the butt-of-the-joke’ position, often enough to know better.
i walk down the hill, up the hill, to the store or to my office to hide. i walk out and in, toward and away.
i walk into the claws and fanged maws of others. Apparently, i walk backward into knives in the back. Who knew i was such a skilled walker?
i walk to think, or sometimes not think. Away, but always back again, for whatever reason.
Still. i keep walking.




whispers