My Feet

"Pero no amo tus pies
sino porque anduvieron
sobre la tierra y sobre
el viento y sobre el agua,
hasta que me encontraron"

Neruda

I have walked through mud and mule shit


At the blinding top of a mountain


Where only volcanic rock and clouds can live.


I have run for my life through blazing city streets.


I love the feel of cold tiled floors beneath my hot feet.


I have slipped, I have missed a step on the stairs.


I have stood infront of historic monuments and felt myself forgotten.



I have stood before you, bare breasted and sleepy


And have remembered somber rain forests and cobble stoned streets 


Piss rusted train tracks and seductive roof tops


Blood puddles and spilt sugar


Buswick Brockport “Macondo
”

Rice fields, black sand
, some stage, some indistinct land…


And


At night


When you sleep


Your feet like to wrap around mine.



And
I had so often wondered what it felt like to simply arrive.