trying to cross

my loping, implacable stride
as I jay-run across the divided road
brings me closer to the curb
with every step

of course it does. what the fuck
kind of stupid sentence or sentiment
is that?

is this a poem? You call
this a - poem? Would you call
What happened! there

symbolically,

is: I believe I slipped
when I should have strode
and ate shit, asphalt, gravel and
skinned my fists
on the aforementioned road -

trying to cross

well,

I have done that before.
And will again. I tell you: I don't know

why the chicken must cross the road

but this poet doesn't need a reason
to go

just a moment
to stop and lie here, listening
to the rhythm,

distant
approaching tide of wheels
hissing

thinking, reflect:
on how hot my blood is
on how close one can get
on the step that I missed,
surely

purely for artistic effect