Some days my normal tasks feel 
like five alarm fires to my brain. 
I am walking to the corner store,
or I am being hunted for sport. 

When I bravely venture out, my cheap
foam sandals thwack and suck 
the entire way, clinging in the spaces
between me, and the sweating sidewalk. 

There’s little resolution here. 
The universe guides my way,
path paved with dingy florescence,
Arizona Iced Tea, tacky seasonal
goods, and eccentric flavors of chips. 

I do make it to the Walgreens, 
but it will be something else tomorrow.