Sometimes when you wake up suffocated with a sadness as dark and oppressive as a demon from your sleep paralysis you go for a walk to try to shake it, at least enough to pretend to function, to answer that text in a cheery way, to smile on that Zoom call with your boss, to not let your youngest see you crying when he walks into the room for the 350th time today to tell you about the lore in his video game, to set out the trash and recycling for pick-up, to feed yourself, to answer this email and that email, to look at what you’re supposed to do for homework, to care whether or not you do your homework, and while you are on that walk, trying to remember that this feeling will pass, to convince yourself that this feeling will pass, an older white man wearing a driving cap and brown leather shoes and khakis and a nearly-turquoise hoodie under a brown, faux leather jacket (with a cut like one of those Member’s Only jackets from the 80s) will cut off the path suddenly and then reappear just ahead of you, only to slow down like he wants you to pass him, so you’ll slow down, too, so as to not get in front of him, you’re afraid to walk in front of him, and it seems he gets that you’re not going to let him follow you, even if you have to walk so slowly you never make it home, and he leaves the path again, like he’s really going this time, pulling a ball out of his pocket and bouncing it on the pavement (bounce, bounce, bounce) as he walks away and you watch him, you try to memorize what he looks like, compare his height to a lamppost you pass, see if you can see his eyes, but he’s wearing sunglasses, and you watch as he walks off, further and further into the distance and you keep walking and as you keep walking, vowing to never stop walking in circles, circles, circles, until you know for sure there’s no way he could still be around to follow you home, you realize that your fear is reminding you that you still want to be a resident of this plane of existence, and you finally exhale.
kfw 2021
Undusted Corners 