The walk is long, starting at your house,
Counting as you cross each square of sidewalk:
One, two, ten, one hundred
Careful to avoid the cracks
Then you're finally at the road,
The one made of dirt instead of asphalt,
With real, tall trees, branches
That bend over your head, and
Best of all, the creek
Beside the road, in the morning shade,
Always worth exploring, looking
For tadpoles you can put in a jar
And take home, so different
From the lizards in the desert where you're from
They only lost their tails, but tadpoles
Change to something different
Like a magic trick
The way you'll change
After you've walked that road
A hundred times
Past the creek, to the town, the foursquare church,
The corner store selling popsicles shaped like rockets,
The school where no one
Is your friend
