Beyond the Wall
No people watched while
walking the bent sidewalks
torn from cottonwood roots.
She’s navigating lifted corners,
moving along the dotted line.
A man biked across the street,
carefully following the flashing arrow.
His brother’s bicycle has thin tires;
only one working brake
(as if it were needed)
The sky held a flock of geese—
left edge of the V a little longer,
flying behind the gray stripe through sea foam clouds.
Geese migrate to warmer ponds this time of year.
Stopping rather gently, looking down,
seeing for the first time the dotted line,
blinking like a small child,
willing to follow wherever it led.
Now, turning from it,
stepping into the street,
in front she saw
and behind lay
and the dotted line