THE WALK (LitBits #3)

          There’s an asphalt walk between two houses. It ambles over and down a hill into a field verdant of blades and diamonds. Electric latitudes hover overhead. The walk trembles thin past seesaws and swings. It winds through a thousand spacetimes of vertiginous naïveté. Two half-courts are trampled by a million possibilities. The walk opens up to the harsh light of day. It hooks about, doubles back on itself, swallows its own tail.