Regulation Size

The bus let me off three blocks too far.

I take the shortcut through the manicured dirt

where the grass is greener than the hood of a car

and the effort of winning doesn't actually hurt.

I step over the chalk, a fresh, blinding white,

and a cloud of it rises to meet my stride.

It clings to the creases of my work boots, bright

against the grease and the miles I hide.

A perfect boundary for a game I don't play.

I carry the border home the rest of the way.