certainty tender_square you pace the central streets, amassing blocks under your soles press. the full moon faints in chalk transparency; this, too, a phase. soon, you will be home. the universe has the itinerary in hand. fences sag and droop, torn asphalt trips, lamb’s quarter graze corners—these are your signposts. you circle a track made for testing engines that run faster than what’s under your hood. your stride is steady. your aim is true. 220715 what's it to you? who go blather from