Feet

I'm in an unfamiliar place surrounded by familiar smells; salted oceans and grilled meats.

I walk this stretch of beach on sharp sands and soft seaglass.

With every step I take I remove the dead skin from my heels. They’ve become so soft I am a baby again.

The mist coming down from the mountain range tickles my ears. Salt enters my nose.

I see my reflection in the wakes that I walk through.

Nothing can be as important to me than it used to be. Nothing can go back. Everything can be right now.

I'd like this life one day. Maybe when my balls have done their job and they hatch.

Maybe when I find a chicken to exfoliate with. Simple things are nice as long as it's something you like.

This place is unfamiliar but the smells are familiar and they bring up unfamiliar memories that I wish were still familiar.

It's irresponsible to do anything but move forward. And so I walk barefoot through seaglass and sand and mud and dirt to find something .

Feet can always be washed.

And when they touch sheets they will be smooth and clean; and my heart will be racing.