Talk About Walking
Where am I going? I'm going out, for a walk.
I don't know where except outside.
Outside argument, out beyond
wall papered walls, outside wherever it is
where nobody ever imagines.
Beyond where computers circumvent emotion,
where somebody shorted specs for rivets
for airframes on today's flights.
I'm taking off on my own two feet,
I'm going to clear my head, to watch
mares'-tails instead of TV, to listen to trees
and silence, to see if I can still breathe.
I'm going to be alone with myself, to feel
how it feels to embrace what my feet
tell my head, what wind says in my good ear.
I mean to let myself be embraced, to let go
feeling so centripetally old. Do I know where I'm going?
I don't. How long or far I have no idea. No map.
I said I was going to take a walk.
When I'll be back I'm not going to say.
Philip Booth