Thousands of dusty footsteps,
a million scattered thoughts.
Vibrations and pulsing beats
dance, spin, thrum upon the skin.
Do you feel their aching bones,
can you read their minds, not tongues?
If the world were to stand still
for just a frozen half hour,
I would lay down next to you,
coaxing many narrations
like sunlight’s coax, diamond’s shine.
I may fade out, bear with me-
like wet sand stuck to elbows,
and red ant bites on dry toes,
a question’s stirring in me.
Have you seen or heard from Di?
We played together as kids;
her pink shoes, her high pony,
braces, I remember well.
Social media has failed
to help me find her again.
Has any of the footsteps
you’ve known day and night been hers?

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