The day lights are turning down
a dark citrus sky
4: 38 pm, just as predicted
The clouds are orange with snow

Rain jacket
polyester pants
beanie
Where are my gloves?
I'm going for a walk.

Uphill towards the woods
it seems
my feet are one step ahead of me
my legs know where to go

I know there are no lights to guide me.
I know Jesse said there was a bear yesterday,
just down the street.
I know I have no protection.

But I'm at the edge of the woods now
and I feel them beckon
Is it the trees?
Is it me?
I have to walk this path.

I can feel each step
slower
more hesitant than the last
My stride, stalling

I'm getting closer
my eyes scan the darkness
frantically
producing shapes of beasts
that aren't there
I have to walk this path.

I flip my hood onto my back
I need to hear.
I stuff my  beanie into my pocket
I flex my ears to listen.
Every sense is at attention.
Is that my heart beat?

Far enough, I decide.
I stop to see
slow-falling snow.
A forest of dusky pines wavering in the wind.
A swirl berry sky.

My fear has turned to wonder.
My eyes are that of a camera
each blink-
the shudder of a snapshot.

I stop and look back
three times, on my way out
swearing to never forget
how exhilarating it is
to be alive.
I have to walk this path.

My eyes are in your room
I can see that you're everything
I'm not

You're red satin sheets
You're sure naked steel

I'm only a quiver in the dark.
Is it you or is it me?

My mouth feels like a magnet
pulling you in

Until I'm everything you are
Until your body is an ellipsis

A sentence left incomplete

And I'm the eager exclamation point,

finishing you off.

My eyes are in your room
and nothing looks the same.

At times you will tether
yourself to another
And pull hand over hand
just to discover
you've woven every strand
but all you are holding
is a rope made of sand

I watch the sun see through the trees
through the glass,
see through me.

This great star
saturates my window
brightly warms my hand,
as if in proposition.

My smile concedes like a girl
that has just been asked to dance.
An unstoppable smile.

I belong out there, in the trees
At the source
Eating sunshine and
sipping starbursts
Filter free.

I roll down the window
as if to shout
"Stop!
Drop me off here".

But all I have are excuses:
"Bad timing," I say.
And the sun may see,
but it does not hear.