No Sidewalks in Pauline

Published — 02.11.2024

Thud, thud, thud
Huff, huff, huff
Whoosh, the leaves twirl behind the F-350
My hair blows forward outpacing me

There are no sidewalks in Pauline
I get intimate with the cars rumbling by—
Death is coming; I can't see it
Whoosh, a Mercury shoots past
Pock-marked with stickers

I turn off the road
It stretches down, trees all around
Leaves red, leaves gold, leaves old
A gentle rain of leaves

Huff, huff, huff
Tromp, stomp, clomp
The air cuts my lungs, my nostrils
Breath escaping, I see it

A path to the side
A winding scar through the forest
So many colors—
A fall symphony just for me

Huff, huff, huff
Clomp, stomp, crunch

I take a moment, be still—
You hear that? Birds talking
Dogs mad about my trespass
Nothing

The sun poking through the canopy
Sticks of light make the magic
How lucky am I?

I step to it, huff, huff, huff
I hit the road again, one car whirs by
Intrusively cold blows up my rear
Enough

Like the chicken, I cross
Death is coming
I want to look it in the eye…
Thud, thud, thud