Public Republic

David Chorlton

Photo: striatic

With nowhere to go, I go nowhere
but forward along the path and turn left
at the pavement with one foot
leading another until
I reach the Avenue where the neighbourhood
becomes a city. Now I’m invisible
among everyone else
who’s walking. The one thing we have in common
is this progressing step by step
but we’re different and we know it. Some of us
are angry, some depressed, and some
glad just to be outside. None of us can tell
what the others are thinking. There might be
a person ready to explode
who’s walking slowly with the fuse
burning down, or a man so ashamed
of what he’s done he could
run into the traffic any moment. Walking
can be dangerous. Someone stops
to ask you for a cigarette
and takes it personally when you say you don’t smoke.
I’ve met people while walking
who carry all they belong for miles, then they pick
me to ask where they’re going.
I tell them it’s a long way wherever
it is, but carry on, there’s nothing here worth
stopping for. I know; I walk here all the time,
I think in motion and always wear
the same pair of shoes. They’re indestructible.