The first things I saw
were sidewalks, boardwalks, streets and roads,
leaves twittering under my feet, soft lisps of wood, stray wrappers
that gave me such delight when I was a boy
I chased them down dirt paths like a last goodbye
and when I hit the city limits, the sun falling down into the field ten miles that way
My footsteps slowed, cracking in the quiet.
I kept on walking,

I walked until the road stopped and the street ended, and the sidewalk gave way
to spreads of grass. The lights and sounds didn't leave,
they morphed into new ones, jumping and screaming in euphoric joy at the end of the line.
I went after them, a manic pinwheel tripping in the wind,
where every person I passed was a package of memories,
and I only wish I could unwrap them all.
The fields gave way to cities, as I got taller and faster and louder,
and behind every townhouse and warehouse they were hiding thoughts,
ideas pouring out of windows and swarming the streets, and they couldn't see the deluge for the water.
The pulses carried me into rivers, and where the swimming stopped, I walked,
a faint self-satisfied smile lingering on my lips,
heading into the sun pulling itself up into the sky,
and when it came down, it didn't hide any more.

over every dead memory and sunken song and field convulsing with time,
sticking my cane into the deep molasses swamp of the rabbit hole,
going down forever, a stretch of everything running deep,
stepping over every glorious cobblestone sidewalk, each statue and monument
history winding up my veins and into my fingers, out my ears, cradling my head,
still smiling, still strolling, as life swells and wanes and shoots up around me,
and I never have to stop.