Metronome

The wind is swimming around me

lapping up against my cheekbones

splashing into my hair

I sense it settling as a presence around my neck-

did it realize I was under-dressed

and decide to improvise a scarf?

These days are taffy

I can feel them being stretched, prodded-

these bricks would tell me to be still

Time's slow gait is palpable and sweet

impermeable to distraction-

the cinereous city ground asks me to slow down

the delicate dancing sound of

some abused shard, skipping across the pavement

accentuates my thought patterns

I'm not walking-

not drumming-

I'm dancing to the world's metronome