By Antino Art

Not everyone in Raleigh can walk.


Those with gout hobble.

Those who can’t see

feel in strikes

from the tip of a cane.

The chair-bound climb

hills on the power of hand-spun

wheels. Skaters fall and get

back up. Babies kick

barefoot in strollers.


There’s diversity: from marching

on the governor’s front lawn to

stumbling out of a newly-opened

bar for old times’ sake.


There are dogs everywhere,

pulling their lovers in circles

through the oak-lined squares.


The newly-coupled fly

with hands held into

the restaurants that held on by

the skin of teeth, and the hungry

tread alone for miles in shoes

that few are steadfast

enough to fill.


The broken sidewalks downtown

have been reunited with familiar

footsteps: jackhammers at 7am,

traffic at 5. To say that Raleigh is

a “walking city” would be too



It’s a stomping ground

where Ronin from all walks

of life once again



-a. Ronin

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