Smells of piss
and old diapers
rise from this walled sidewalk
despite the cold air
a hawk catches
a thermal past this high-level bridge
gifting her a longer hunt.
Squirrels bark and scratch at a yell
and scurry up honey locusts
in fear
in spite
as if I aimed to steal their seeds.
I kick rocks left months ago
by the department of public works
but with this fickle weather
it's just as well they've been neglected
by the street sweeper.
Here the ground is hard
and my knees know it more
with each year
with each mile.
Here the soil is buried
beneath oil and stone
and I have some distance
above before I know it.
