I danced

I leaned away

and in the blink of an eye

I stepped off the edge

and tottered into a new idea.

I tipped into the thought

of choosing differently

and it was anything but easy

to walk directly away.

I’ve found, lately, that

even weaving through

the fake sidewalk that moves daily,

barriers erected

where previously there weren’t any,

even the fog horns

that startle me endlessly

and conversely promise safety,

even the cockroaches that leak out

of the second avenue construction

and barely last a hairsbreadth

before succumbing to a shoe,

even the underbelly details

bring me comfort

because I stepped away.

Sometimes I weave backward -

I hover on the surface of what once was

and play the game of what could have been.

But in the end I always find

that singing to a dog in a kitchen,

slashing paragraphs for the maybe of a future,

and sitting on a futon that plays at being comfortable

helps me straddle the middle of what was and what will be

because I chose to dance.