I cross streets boldly
reveling in my pedestrian rights.
Let the reckless taxis come; I can dodge.
I walk, the bastion of human transportation.
Bikes whisk by and cars spin on unaware,
but the power of calloused feet, the pleasure of following the light spiral of wind drifts,
to those of us of walking pedigree.
we are the originals, the makers
of steely eyed crossings, of sacred passages,
of unrestricted movement,
yes just maybe — it’s hardly worth a mention, really — I used to be a coward walker,
by crosswalks and concrete drop-offs
with no reason not to
I cross streets boldly.