every foot that pounds the pavement increases
the headache to come.
the faked smiles,
calls that bind us.
not really.
it is the sun for me,
it binds me to me.
not the smiles,
not the time,
not the ways in which we are.
simply the sun.
she is not who you think she is.
and i am what i know myself to be.
only the sun.
other attachments are futile
because the sun sears them,
cauterizes the ends
to make me whole.
as i splash down,
the echoes of split ends
remind me that
i am for
myself.
selfish, selfish me
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