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Surprising how glass shoes can carry you,

down side streets, along concrete city sidewalks

speckled with gum and paid meters, over brown wooden floors, up to

orange rubber yoga mats to deliver the Proverbial assist.

Past waterfalls flowing down walls of

sautered stones. Small space moving around inside of you,

in the midst of a concrete city jungle.

The way those shoes and shuffling feet sometimes catch a glint of light,

reminding you-maybe I’m not so dumb about the world after all. Giving you enough breathing room to turn the space of him over

in your two bare hands.