So I took a walk, my Converse All-Stars out in front,
and each step kept me that much closer to myself;

the wind was solid, as January air will often be,
and a distant engine hummed in the slicing breeze;

my eyes fixed on the wavy, grey patterns in the pavement,
then returned to the darkness looming beyond the trees;

then last night I changed my mind and didn’t take that walk,
my Chuck Taylor high-tops stinking just the same.
 

Phil Rice / Canopic Jar #9, 2001