I suppose that this is different, that this is right,
        that this is real…
                I suppose that I am, too —
                        complementary and walking,
                                still mending my
                                past due shoes
                                and eliciting
                                cries over
                        what color to paint
                                them (again),
                                        times-two.
                I walk further out and
                        change my mind mid-
                                sentence, stepping further
                                        and sooner than before
                                        and mimicking a
                                                past like a
                                        circumspect beginning
                                                and my favorite
                                                        few words,
                                                        spelled differently.
                                And like my hand reaches for
                        a “time” to call closer,
                                I resist the pull from within
                                        and remark that my
                                                hands are freer
                                                        than blue winds.
I am let go (dropped the call),
        and set inside for safe keeping.
                I wait alone, awhile, for a new shake —
        for something to move me
                                another step
                                        to make me follow through.
                                I change into a view, a
                                        disguise and shadow
                                        the boxer, the player
                                                in the games.

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