Arid country was his living room now, he thought as he kept his steady pace aimed at the snow dusted Sierra's. His legs felt like steel underneath his purposeful body. Putting one foot in front of the other was habit now. It didn't require any thought. Thought. That was why he had been walking nonstop for the past 10 months. He started walking on a Tuesday. He had come home from the office, rigid with overdue work and incessant phone calls. He changed into his windbreaker, the blue one with white stripes, and running shoes. He had no intention of running, just going out for fresh air to "clear his mind". It was something that had been on his to-do list for a long time. As he passed Giovanni's Deli and made a left down 72nd his mind shifted with a breeze of clarity. He hadn't thought of a book to read or a show to watch, let alone have any room in his torn psyche for personal discovery since his sophomore year at University. With each step he took his brain blasted through a restraint of conformity and social expectations. It felt good. It felt right. He wondered how deep his mind went, how much did he have to discover? He knew his walk wasn't over and couldn't foresee an end. Today was a start but it wasn't enough. It wasn't a decision about keeping on, it had just happened. Even when he wore a hole in his sole, it wasn't a decision. He put one foot in front of the other as if it were the only thing he knew.
*For any poetry fans, the title is homage to the author of J. Alfred Prufrock.
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