For Anything

Footsteps clomp
like rhinos on the floor
above; casing on
the outside front door lock
is loose; cell phone

texting intermittent –
losing juice; AOL flicks
error messages subliminally –
operates molasses-slow;
one walks in peril through

the icy leftovers of snow –
gravity at odds with
lumbering and flailing
limbs: as if the sorrowfully
vast materiality of an existence

were atoning for its sins.
Still have to navigate
its hazards to pick laundry up,
and hot-and-sour soup,
and try to keep myself within

the tenuous and trembling
loop. I wonder what
new urban awkwardnesses
it will bring. I wouldn’t trade
my life for anything.



.