Terminators

It was a long walk. There and back. Then there again. Always only taking some of what I needed. The weather was temperate and my feet were able. So I did. Choose to walk. There. And back.

Again. And again.

Enjoying the motion of moving toward what waited.

Dimpled chassis. Failing suspension. The taste of progress. I remember you then. In my empty tank. In my choking engine.

It was expensive. For what it was. Small terminals sheltered behind the scenes. But I imagined the difference they made as the sound and the impulse confronted.

None.

Really. But for the grace of self-delusion.

We walked. Scuffing our way between the buildings. More than warm enough. More than satisfied with the lethargy of the moment.

The thick grin of summer teasing at the base of the sun. Every day must aspire to be like this one.

So right.

So wrong.