It is an indistinguishable day:
gray, cloudy sky and hours that feel too long.
There is someone with a stroller, a child
kicking their legs, asking for food.
The river sloshes, the boats bob slowly,
all the discarded trash bumps up against the wall
Something upsetting has happened, left you
in shaky tears, spilling out water, an inkwell tipped.
You want to run, sprint to the best of your ability
far, far away. You want to make it to that glowing symbol,
that reads PIER and a number, that attracts boats but not people.
You look down, take two steps at a time, trying to
make it a game, two steps in one rectangular block, and suddenly
It is cold, and your face and arms have turned red.
But now you have an accomplishment, something to counter
the failure that had tipped the scales, sent liquid flying.
It’ll be okay, you remind yourself.
It’ll be okay.