sidewalks in the sky

in the place where she learned to walk
on a pillow she learned how to read
she opened her eyes:

it didn't matter to anyone else

but her

the stories she walked past
turned back and looked at her
and she read them again

they were right.
their glances were piercing
they smelled of black coffee and cigarette smoke
and had the teeth of a shark

 she roasted them with pleasure

on an open fire of past

with a pinch of salt

and moved on.