Soft glow and saturation
make the dullest blues into
a steady walk, predictable,
cloudy like skies in February
and November, broken strings
on the head and into the coda.

Tracing trail maps with
fingers and bootsteps that
mud imprint the floormats
of your grandfather's gray
four-door with the cracked
windshield and long
scrapes down the sides.

Keep pace with the clicks
of fingernails on wound
nylon, don't fall to expected
declarations, don't let them
beat you to the top.

She wasn't sure what she
really loved until first
flight, when it became
clear that every experience
was available, that every
agent was awake and asking.