if i leave this place forever,
what parts of me will linger on
in the dust trail of my escape?
do i leave a trail of good memories,
bread crumbs behind me so i can always come home?
or is it the sick and sour that stretches my shadow
long on the pavement to cover my tracks?
like the small snail's trail:
slow but steady, a sign of my journey,
a testament to my progress --
each step, a mile into the future,
a mountain away from home.