Following the Footnotes

Not for nothing does the light prick my eyes, a thirst for walking shoes tightens ankle bones that parachute out of an inner attic landing awkwardly into the open throats of sneakers still clutching their tendons. Out from under a dim tented roof the world is overrun with Asterix's small confusing marks that suggest footnotes and disclaimers, warnings that you should not take anything as actually actual. Seriously sober, * I ditch the thought of turning back, now the landscape is tripping, trees are hugging small birds tenderly. Owls are tugging at dark clouds moving them through bright windows of sky. The world has become a child's coloring book. It is truly amazing how some mornings* will keep you insane for a short while allotting you just enough time to recall, that you are not yet verified, that you're n Asterix, a disclaimer. never dotting half-open eyes, never declaring your fixed reality because the world keeps editing its meaning, there are always more footnotes to add. *