Ode to a Wire Brush

Never was walking a greater penance than for one without any feet & legs more numerous than the corrosive rain. And the to-&-fro of it: pacing is a refuge when you can’t stand still. Do it long enough & distraction turns into discipline, the ground warms & acquires the hard gleam of an interrogator. You confess, confess, confess. Your tracks are covered with a thin brown dust.