The sky folds like linen,
blue edges frayed by wind.
I walk the sidewalk like it owes me
something—maybe a shadow
that doesn’t keep tripping over itself.
A pigeon flaps past,
carrying yesterday’s crumbs,
and I think: even birds
have baggage.
Still, the light hits my cheek
like a hand I didn’t ask for,
warm, insistent—
and for once
I don’t flinch