The walk

I'll take the cobbled street

Where you lose your first cigarette

I’ll go alone, it is better than bad company

I'll go looking for I don't know

A distraction

A breath

A dodge

I'll probably go on a Sunday

Between three and four

That is when the world takes its breath

I'll drag my feet as if I'm looking to take flight

With the fingers making the wind his piano keys

I'll be with the smile caught in my eyes

Counting the meters that separate me from the ground to the clouds

I’ll be, most likely, distracted

Trying to remember where I was headed

I’ll go down the street where the trees still like to give the cold summer shade

I’ll go in silence, but humming that song that I have stuck since I thought I had crossed you between three avenues and a continent.

I’ll be meditating questions that haunt me in the hours that sleep weighs on me and I’ll be a stumble waiting to happen,

I’ll walk through the streets where my steps have an echo in all the balconies and I can be without feeling all the looks that are imaginations

I’ll go without hesitation

With head held high

With crooked feet

And with the lips

To say

Oh, it's you I was looking for.

TA.