on the sidewalk a heart pumps oxygen
and legs pump spirit
tearing at the soil
aggravating with worn rubber soles and the force
of a body in motion.
birds lumber by
lackluster battery-eyes leering
their wings cling closely –
frosted over by the cold
they wait – stationary, for the lights
and the sun grows heavier on the bruised skyline.
as she soars by
burning up the cement with her legs.
her filmy-eyed spectators gawk
at her freedom.
and each feels it pass them fleetingly
before it tails her around a corner
and fades from their view.
her feet bite the earth,
snarled mane trailing behind her.
she streaks by the fowl in the road,
their dull eyes twitching,
watching the lights,
watching the signs.
the birds confine themselves to the road,
letting the lights make up their minds for them.
She has no lights
just a world