he walks slowly like a funeral procession and i keep trying to adjust my walk accordingly. i'm conscious of steps. my consciousness is stepped. one and one and one. two with a thread between, consciousness. i'm following a ghost of the future, turning and looking at him. he peps up near the corner by the dentist when thinks of his milk bone, and i lead him past the lite house and the bus stop with apple bits. time weighs on us yet it seems we are also outside of time, like we've been here before and we've always been here and we'll always be here.