MayPoWriMo 13

I trace isolation
with my fingers
in the air

as a child I counted the trees
through the car windshield
with eye blinks

stepped on the pavement
avoiding the cracks
putting maple seeds on my nose

thinking the perfect phrase
could only be measured
on appendages

making intricate symmetrical designs
with my foot over and over
until it was perfect

but only in the motion of the air
and only until my legs
reached the floor