I Walk The Road

I don’t walk on the joints of the sidewalk slabs,
the mere thought drives me to gloom.
I’d rather walk a tight-rope over Niagara Falls,
or free fall from a hot air balloon.

I have difficulty even talking about this,
but there’s something about a joint or crack.
I know very well it’s a psychological thing,
but it doesn’t help knowing that.

Councillors and psychiatrists have tried to help,
and hypnotherapists’ have given their best,
but those cracks and joints beneath my feet
put me to a daily agonising test.

I’m now also becoming agoraphobic,
and going outside scares the life out of me.
If only I never had a joint to cross,
I could manage life quite easily.

poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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