Crossing the Sidewalk

March 29, 2010
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The sidewalk is as close as I will get
I can’t cross that road that stretches out in front of me
The sun watches me derisively
He knows I won’t do it
He knows I will turn around in exactly 7.9 seconds
And crawl back into the safety of my sheltered house
I will prove him wrong
Someday I will step off that ledge of cement and cross that street
But not today
Today I will turn around and flea
Like a dog about to be whipped
I don’t have the strength to move even one more inch forward
Not even the promises that float into my ears can lead me
They are empty words anyway
As empty as the sympathetic house I hide in
I long to fill those words, to patch that hole
But that would require crossing the road
Which I cannot do
So I turn around and trudge onto the familiar green lawn
And don’t look back because today, I will not cross the street.

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