Low Fidelity

The streetlights make the sidewalk look like bone.

I’m dragging my heels through a yellow sun,

the dust of it grinding into the tread

of a boot that’s seen too many hours.

There’s a blue leg ending in a smear

where a kid lost interest or got called in.

It’s a low-res ghost of a Tuesday afternoon

smudged by the grease of the real world.