WILL YOU BE THERE

There is a small rock in my shoe

There is a small rock in my shoe.

Probably accumulated from walking these dusted roads—

when and where, I do not remember.

But on this cold day, my feet feel nothing

except for this rock that has

lodged itself conveniently under my big toe

eagerly toying with my strings.

A resilient old friend

carrying such minute annoyance

but a grave one also,

the only consistency in my life.