I decide I’ve spent enough time

Between these walls

For the past 15 months

That I can walk around eyes closed

Navigate by hologram burned into retina

 

Muscle memory taking over

Knowing the constant steps between

Fridge and trash

Fridge and recycling

Fridge and compost

 

Nice compact metaphors for life

The consuming

The dropping

And the repetitive steps in between

A measurable distance

 

So I try it

And walk towards the direction I need to go

Eyes closed

Light changing on my eyelids

As a window makes itself known

 

That’s when it happens

There are no walls

There is no walking

There are no things

And up I go

 

As if beams had tractors

To plow them

In neat orderly rows

And I realize

Where the hell am I