i realize that walking outside my home is the scariest thing of all. i've been gazing at pictures all day of smiles i did not recognize; hair over shoulder poses that promise nothing but another insignificant dream that lasts a breath. the sky no longer has the beating of wings, a clear afternoon with the sun beating into my head and no clouds to shield me. the eerie sound of my steady footsteps on the road and what else may have travelled with me matches the leaves of old print that is left caught on sidewalk seats. old stories cling to weeds, yesterday events, today news, tomorrow myths.

the gray man walks dreaming, walking straight through traffic. no fear but his own demons.

the gray dog. barks at itself for believing the hand that feeds it, then wraps the cold chain around its neck.

the princess lies back in bed after a bout with the mall sale and realizes that she wants something that never goes out of style.

sampaguita on a strand and streaks of dried tears on her cheeks, another street urchin promises that tomorrow everything will turn around. no matter what happens.

i long for the wave that no longer touches shore.