Streaks

On the docks they skitter along, lost and found,
little feet grown large on the drizzly boardwalk,
with dreams aplenty, as when the wind was young

Few reach the pinnacle of speed - the effort alone would slay
dragons, these souls are on their way no doubt,
towards heroic deeds yet unseen,
with determination on the sweat of their brow,
pining away with a demigod's plow

Some flow down the gentle pathway to a nearby pub like
cold molasses, taken in by the smell of the sea,
new pork pies and stale beer,
a cacophonous, winding, misty embrace -
wafting along the edges of their senses,
they search for way to stay razor's edge

Most, forget why they came -
the fog of being human is not easily swayed
hemming and hawing,
toiling just to skirt the taxman's gaze,
but not enough to
kill the numbness on the brain

Soon all the big feet, some narrow, some wide -
all of them seek shelter amidst the throng,
wishing to become small once again,
tiny footprints on the sandy beaches of the world
unknown and unhindered
back to the place where dreams anew.