walking barefoot 


They stuck his feet into shoes
before he knew how to walk
and tied them in once he could-
now every morning
he threads strings through the eyelets
of his black boots,
wondering when he got so laced up. 


On this morning,
the west-facing window
brought a light to the east, 
his bed caught fragments of sun
that pooled in the folds of the blanket,
and before being interrupted abruptly
by the ritual crack of an alarm clock, 
he awoke
and swam in that light. 


Watching alien particles
dance through the air
in slices of warmth cut by the blinds
of his apartment window,
sent from a flame in the sky
a hundred million miles away-
he paused and had a moment of clarity
that felt like something between
déjà vu and nirvana. 


On his way to work,
he noticed the line of cars
parked on the boulevard,
with their neatly displayed
and individually paid registrations,
gleaming underneath the sun
just like stars in the night;
and while he suddenly
didn’t know what to hope for,
he felt something knew,
and wished on every one.  


How many minutes have you spent wishing
to pass the hours? 


Inside of his office, 
on the 5th floor of a building, 
stacked neatly in a row,
behind a freeway that could take you anywhere
but rarely did, 
his perfunctory work
became shackles and chains,
and he felt the world spinning without him,
every rotation aching more. 


He stood up and sat down
because the room grew too small, 
each minute too important, 
and the hours blissfully lost in a perfect moment
more than an elusive and unknown escape.
Looking down he became overtly aware
his shoes were tied too tight,   
and if he had ever held a moment of weightless
in transcendent harmony,  
he felt it now;
and raising his office blinds to the sky,
a light shone in that was like waking from a dream.


All moments pass too soon; 
and the best he could do
was feel the tingling aftershock
cascade over the room.   

He was removed- 
and noticing the space harboring it all, 
between the things he never thought to focus on,
he caught a glimpse of everything
he had missed there before. 


There are a million ways to see a room,
perception is the beauty of beholding. 



So it blazed in with the sun
and briefly
the room was on fire with purpose-
he rose from his desk
and walked straight through the flames. 



He left it all behind,
because letting go
of the routine,
the schedules,
the twisted priorities,
the delusions of grandeur,
the lesser of evils,
and everything else stacked
across the expanse of pavement
stretching towards the sun-
was the only way to fight
the silent war.


Once in the parking lot
he left his numbered spot, 
and forgetting his pre-paid ticket,
drove straight through the electronic parking gate arm,
leaving a burst of wood and plastic in his wake,
droving towards that ball of fire in the sky. 



He followed it to the coast
right into a sunset, 
and parked on the sand
in a tow away zone.
Not wasting another second,
with his keys still in the ignition
he climbed onto the hood of the car
to kiss every pink and orange cloud
reaching towards the horizon. 


The shirt ripped of easily
and his pants rolled up quickly.
With wind tickling at his pale skin,
he let the salt of the earth into his lungs,
the way it always should have.
he could untie his shoes,
and just before hurling them into the crashing waves,
with his feet in the sand,
he vowed to take his time with each step,
and boldly walk barefoot into the unknown.