Ambulatory, or I walk in your footsteps

I walk because my feet like hitting the ground
because otherwise I’d never hear the crunch of gravel or leaves or the shrill rumbling
of children’s bikes with teal plastic wheels

I walk to get somewhere or to go in circles

I walk because my car broke, my bike broke, and i’m too broke for the bus

I walk because when I walk, I remember all the other times I’ve walked
and my life is suddenly a coherent whole

I walk so my thoughts can see where they’ve come from

I walk because I am coming and going

I walk because my shoes are delighted

I walk to forget, but I end up remembering

I walk to school

I walk so the sun has something to look at besides housetops and rooftops and abandonedbuilding tops

I walk on sidewalk, on disheveled glass, and on spongy grass

I don’t walk in heels

If I walk on the same path enough, I can see where I’ve walked before