Every now and then I am amazed by how many people scurry about in the wild lands of America. We are a proud people, standing firm in our beliefs of equality and moral fiber. Yet, so many of us cringe at the thought of opening a window when the bedroom is hot and without any air flow. Who is waiting for us? A mystery stalker or rapist. A jewelry thief or a murderer. Can't we just sleep in peace or perhaps walk home from work with-out the major fear of not opening our door without someone being right behind us. So hard do we think about the negative things in life that we forget about the nice thoughts of being free from our problems.

Sitting on the steps, watching people walk by, brings a tenseness that is very distasteful. Who, walking in those shoes will make it home safe and who will not. Who is the innocent victim and who is the guilty one? The faces all look alike but the shoes are all different. Polished, scuffed, worn, new, laced, loafers, all styles that tell of individual personalities, more than a mere face can. It is easier to look at the sidewalk. So much to think about, since I'm sitting here, outside. I'm a target, I guess. A small but growing number of victims in this great country who simply want to sit outside without any interference of being asked about 'wanna buy some of my 'junk'? No thank you...I just want to sit here and think about a more pleasant way of life. Can't run inside and hide, all the time. I won't be a prisoner in my own home. I demand to be 'free' in this country. Free from all the money mongers wanting my wallet and soul. What will it be? Freedom or Prisoner? So many thoughts in just a few minutes of sitting down on these cement steps. Iron railings in my sight as I look on.

How many people are sitting on steps, like I am, thinking the same thoughts? How many are looking for the 'perfect shoe' to walk up the steps, past us, to the same door from which I will soon open and walk to my meager dwelling?

I am always looking for that bright rainbow, with that pot of gold at the end. Some pots are bigger than others, I guess, as I've never attained mine, I'll never know. I just sit here thinking about how my shoes compare to all the others that walk the same pavement with me.

I need to go to bed. I need to get my mind into another frame. That frame that somehow will take me away from all this crime.

I grab the rod iron baluster and pull myself up. I look to the streets and I see a decreasing amount of people as the night approaches and I answer most of my questions. The nightfall sends the shoes inside. We don't really like our shoes moving in the dark. Guess I'll take mine inside!