The Rhythm of the Linoleum

Tack-snap.

Every third step on the library tile

gives me away.

I found a piece of pink gum

that invited a piece of gravel

to stay for the afternoon.

The students are looking up from their screens.

I try to walk on the outside of my foot,

limping like a man with a secret,

cursing the street I crossed

to get into this quiet.