it’s a mysterious grain of sand
in your shoe one day
coming home from work

it’s the resultant blister
water leaking onto your sock
skin coming off
in your hand

you have to walk slowly now

you hear whispers
on every corner

they don’t care if you know
because you’re not important
and it’s gone too far to stop

everyone’s in on it

they aren’t covering up something that’s already happened
it’s an operation in progress

you’ve bent one slat on the living room blind
because you watch the street all the time
every truck and skateboard a lure to the window

it’s secret squirrel stuff
and you’re wounded
and one step behind

but you know
they know you know
you know they know you know

you’re buying a gun
off the grid
you’re stocking up on ramen
and peanut butter
you’re not talking to anyone for very long

you suspect you’re part of it

it’s not all that bad
to be so aware of your surroundings
that you can hear
codes in the crickets
saying
the key to all this
when you find it
will have to be turned
in a lock you haven’t found either

everyone is talking about it
and your bleeding foot
you’re leaving a lot of tracks
it’s a race against time
and you’re slowing down

hurry