You walk on the pavement,
gravel crunching under your feet,
dragging yourself home through the early-summer heat;
You don't go near the road,
even if there are no cars around and the birds
feed on fallen seeds in the cracks of the tarmac;
Because you were taught not to,
'look both ways before crossing the road',
'never stay on the road for too long',
so my feet slow, stumble to a stop,
I look at the month old tarmac, still dusty with the last tire marks of the vehicles that pass;
and i step out into the middle,
knees weak and a pit opening in the stomach,
for I do not want to die,
I felt safe so why did I step out;
but then I walk, one foot in front of the other,
hand clenched around my keys, my house is just there,
and everything stops for a moment;
the sky isn't too bright anymore,
the heat tipping below just bearable,
such beautiful poetry, emotions;
I feel safer in the middle of the roaring tunnel of thunder,
then in the confines of my own body.