The Cloud of Unknowing, 2019

The tops of the buildings were shorn. So I walked
down Market Street to see if I could find them. 

The fog tried to take my head off. I was so scared on
some parts of Market that I stayed a few feet behind 

a man with strong legs, even though he walked too
fast. We passed someone helping a man across the 

street. We passed a person lying on a bench, looking
at the one cloud in the sky. When I looked up, the 

cloud was shaped like an eye without the iris. I walked
behind the man with my eyes closed. But his 

footsteps disappeared. The man had turned left into
a store without warning and I was left with Rilke’s 

Open. As he vanished into the store, I looked at him.
I felt stronger, now that I had traveled with him for 

thirty minutes. In that time, I had no dreams. No
desire to write on light. No desire to name anything. 

Everything I touched I abandoned. Everything that
stung, didn’t hold, trailed me for a block, then 

crossed the street. My present, which had spent its
life outside of my life, appeared. When Market Street

finally ended, I was left with only my present facing
all the roads. All the roads ahead were crowded. 

I knew I would never have this chance again, so
I turned right on Eureka.