The Fort

Photo by Christopher Alvarenga on Unsplash

I roam barefoot through The Fort
To feel the heat rise up between raindrops
The flash of dryness behind the wet.
I am lost inside those spaces.
I am every other one
Collecting friendships
And names
Like souvenirs acquired by barter
In a troubadour’s trade for bread.

And it’s not easy being a sailor
Knowing that with fate
As with the wind
Change is not option to be discounted.
So I force my way through chaos
Deciding early how I will be remembered
Moulting my soul along the way
Dropping pieces to the path —
The bits of me left over.

I leave my marks behind me
On walls
Like a cat.
Can I piss here?
Can I bleed here for a while?
You can watch me breathe for a while
If you want to.
And you can trace my tracks
To my den
Through my labyrinth
Until you find me
Waiting alone in the dark with my memory
Holding hoarded secrets we could share
If only you
Paid attention.