I walk with a cane I do not need.  the road I’m on is unnaturally level.  I have what one might call my feet on the ground as I pass a still life with strollers unattended.  ahead of me, two women are fumbling with the beginning stages of their assault on a crippled boy with a phantom brain.  the boy seems to be consoling his ears with the hidden roar of a tank.  old man that I’m not, I hear the babies being put behind me.