We’re dancing in the leftover sun, my soles upon your feet as I kiss your eyelids.
What are my soles speaking?

Running over cold concrete, out the back door
Roundy pebbles with grass in between
Dirt and pine needles where the gravel ran out
Then skipping over hot asphalt to dash down that sparkling yellow line.

Turn at the eagle tree, shocking white against the blue, with a lightning burned black heart
Wild strawberries line the path but I’m running too fast now to be tempted by tiny sweetnesses
Through the spiderwebs between salmonberries, over bleached driftwood bones, to the shore
Tiny rocks first, crispy seaweed crackling
Then soles slapping as I find my rhythm across the big smooth stones

But soon enough, barnacles – YES they cut
Blood comes quick to raggedy edges
I may regret it later, but now my soles are into the slippery salt
Numbed by the cold sea water

Do you know me at all, when your soles don’t know any of this;
When you haven’t been barnacle bled?