To appease the burning, sighing, jelling

of my dully aching legs,

I benched myself before a church,

Though not to pray away the pain, or prostrate ‘fore the cross.

I took a moment’s splendor

To breathe the noxious air,

And survey all the back-and-forth, 

An endless asphalt sea-trade fare;

And, of course, I tried in vain

To follow all the travelling people 

(There seems to be an uneasy breath 

gluing them all together)

with my eyes,

My two telescopic eyes,

Searching for someone to scrutinize

and through the glass shieldings

seeing only brilliant, faceless spots of light,

defending them,

and beckoning me to take a look at the only one I could make out:

Myself.

First I saw the seeping brown beneath the body of my shoes

Which came from the puddle of filth I had played Frogger with, 

even adopted the same bowed legs for.

(should I have gracefully walked through it?)

I almost felt guilty.

Sitting

And musing

but still only gazing into the outside world,

(must’ve had a lot of hubris to try walking all this way all by myself)

Instead of turning inward, 

and embracing the ugliness of my own sins.

It was such a beautiful day that I’d been led to that sin:

Sitting here on the ground floor

and looking up at the blue walls of Heaven,
with my mixed fabrics, and artificially-enhanced sight.

It was such a beautiful day, 

I didn’t even mind.