I walk out into the world and follow my shadow.
My shadow anticipates my every move.
It walks onto private property with impunity,
Patting the dog on the head.
My shadow peeks into open windows
And is sliced like bread by vertical blinds.
My shadow breaks into parked cars, diving through
Windows and emerging uninjured, hands empty.
My shadow enters the shadow of a house
And disappears and comes out a shadow wall
Where there is no door.
My shadow never talks about what it saw in there.
My shadow heads to the cemetery in the morning
While the light is low and its mind is long.
My shadow favors loblolly pines, because even
As tall old trees they are always learning to dance.
My shadow is clumsy too, it trips over gravestones
And slides down the grassy slope as if
Towards death. As if death were a game
That had an end. Or a goal. I turn around
And walk up the hill, dragging my shadow
Over the wet grass and home. It is at these times
My shadow wishes the clouds would come closer.