Gravity seems to pull less,
and feet drift above asphalt.
The street flows far beneath
my invisible sneakers.
I have no hulking form,
no limitations
in this murky evening air.
Cracks in the sidewalk
try to slow my pace.
Houselights briefly catch
my racing legs
in a patchwork of illumination.
that soon dissolves
as I fly away in the dark.
Yes, morning will unspool its wire
and tether my limbs to trundle
—a marionette, block heavy,
but now I have cut the ties.
The unseen windy branches sway
with sleeping sparrows,
and the spinning earth
cannot hold me in place.