Loom

I am walking on wet pavement
without shoes on while the sun
breaks through and brightens up
the water.
It looks like I’m on ice but it is warm
outside and everyone
is still convinced it’s raining,
so I get to be alone.
An archway of black stone
dangles from its sturdier sides
and melts in like a tire left
along a highway.
It just appears there sometimes
and I’m the only one who sees it.
I’ve tried the deepest cities
and most barren grasslands
I could wander out to,
where there are so few left to talk to
I go crazy, and they never like me
anyway.
It shows up like a floater in my eye
but looming over me
just sagging there
in all its false fragility,
wherever I may be.
My feet are so pale against
the soaking blacktop
it’s almost like
I am the inverse
of this thing
that somehow
follows me.
I pass beneath it,
as the rain resumes,
and without looking
I am certain
it is gone.