As I grazed my palms against the bricks,
the red-orange crumbled into a soft, dense powder
that reminded me of a manicured bark
from tall, ghastly trees that spread up into the sky
and coated the blue in a darkness, so finite,
as the limbs of surrounding trees connected
and bent and folded into each other in a symmetry
reminiscent of the fingers of a girl and her father
joined together on a late train ride,
the day's activities taking their toll
upon the girl's smattered unrest
and her father's shirt collar in the same proportions
while he stays awake to appreciate the one moment
of quiet with the last living being he cares for.
The cars spoke loudly enough to shake my kneecaps
and stir my mind from its stupor
as I stared back into my palm
and realized the trail of red
I left along the sidewalk.