On Foot
We were like that in the jungle,
the desert, temperate forest.
Born to follow rivers after ice-flow.
Always like we were in the beginning.
By choice or chase.
To carry your body and mine
for miles on foot,
at times running for our lives.
Where is the tribe, our protector?
Skulls warm in sand
like turtle eggs, the sea,
magnetic, waits for them.
Remind me why we can’t be arboreal
again?
The air is unforgivably clear.
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