Heel- toe, heel-toe,
Heel- toe, shoulders back, head neutral.
Heel-toe, every step is measured.
I have performed this act every time I have left my house since I was 17. Just like figure skating, everything is calculated, if I miss the beat the entire thing is thrown out of sync. The costume, the construct, it serves me. I cannot let them see my exhaustion. If my joy shows through I risk hearing “Hey beautiful” from some unwelcome corner. I build this construct every day, I am convinced it serves my purpose.
Heel-toe, heel-toe,
Heel-toe, no bounce on the ball of my foot.
When did they break me of that childish gait? These steps carry me through crowds, or do they cut through the crowd like a hull through breaking waves. Is it still a performance if the actor adapts to it? Adopting the nature of the role. They view me through their construct, but I tell myself that their constructs cannot see inside mine. I am safe from them, and they are safe from me. Always performing together, for each other, synchronously, alone.
Heel-toe, heel-toe,
Heel-toe, goddamn slow walkers.
Why do we hate slow walkers so much? Is it because they disrupt our carefully laid out plans, forcing us to face the irrationality of our construct. Heel-toe, pause. Heel-toe, stumble. Hello? You are in the way of my safety-net and I am in a free fall, can I please pass you by? Thank you, have an entirely slow day. Heeltoeheeltoeheeltoe away from you thank you very much.
Heel-toe… but wouldn't it be lovely to be healed, though.