I walked up
for fifteen years. Some days
I traipsed up them
with haggard breath. Some days I

bounced up them
like a lunatic on ****. Some days
I climbed them as a mountain,
the steps a foothold. Some days I

waltz up shimmering,
a woman to behold. Some days I
ran up fast as a cheetah,
filling in the gaps as

an overloaded pita. I climbed them
wet in boots, trudging in
the snow. I climbed them in flip-flops,
sticking out my toes. I climbed

them in muddy sneakers, and studded
stilettos. I wasn’t aware until now –
planks of wood could
moisten my eyes. The carpet

covering his steps is neat and dry.