Boot-prints

One fifth my weight,

I hop along the gray landscape

As if in slow motion:

One leap, two leaps, three -

A squash, a press, a smush

Of my boots in the dust.

They leave behind an imprint

That will soon dissipate.

Here it is all quiet,

Save for the deep huffs of my breath echoing off the glass just inches from my face.

I observe the waxing blue planet

That I call home,

And reflect on how similar I am to these boot-prints in the dust.

It is dark here.

I close my eyes.

I breathe.

In. (Hcch)

Out. (Hfff)

I open my eyes to find myself tucked in bed,

Staring at the ceiling,

Knowing that I need only close my eyes again

To return back to where I’ve never been.