The air brushes, cool against my skin,
it hits me like a new day.
Warm pitter patter on my arms,
undercutting scent of soil,
and a heavy pull on my life force,
dragging me out,
pulling me in.

The dim light shimmer on the wrinkled tar,
cracked and patterned,
like the skin of a gecko.
I've been walking for years but it's been a millennium,
and I'm tired of walking but I want the future.

Now I'm at my car,
now I'm at my car.