The stuff we want to avoid,
Like botox lipped sidewalks
Than interfere with a runner’s flow.
Who’s responsible for this shit,
Keeping things level,
Allowing our journeys to be safe?
People have the wherewithal to announce
Blue herons pick at eyes
So wear goggles when feeding them,
But who can say
When a fall
Might take us down.
Nobody claims any responsibility,
Lock and key lipped posers
Who only know that they are done
And not responsible for this shit,
Keeping things calm
Allowing journeys to be enjoyed.
It’s a wonder we don’t all fall,
The way things go,
All ragged, haggard, and torn
With scraped hands,
And scars over every last bit of vulnerability.
Maybe there’s a long ass form to fill out,
Something to document each fall,
After a storm.
Eh, I’ll just keep picking my feet up
And putting them down.