It is time for a new speed.

A fresh pair of cotton socks and a handful of cash.

I’m going to take that road I have walked one hundred times

And walk it backwards.



I have slammed enough doors

To know when I’m ready to soften.

I must decide whether to hold my breath

And climb out of ground zero.

Or just lay down in the rubble.



I can see the dregs.

The grit in the tea, the flattened beer.

The paltry tobacco at the bottom of the bag.

Desolate and sparse. The ineffable honesty

Of the etchings around my eyes.



My legs twitch in a lethargic energy.

They kick out and twist in the bedsheets

Tangled in routine.

I’m kicking out against the bars

That constantly hold me in.