Wandering About

The cool air
The sun's glare
I trace the bumps on my skin
I wonder where to begin
I walk down the path 
I probably need a bath
I avoid peoples gazes
I navigate my own personal mazes
I stumble into a convince store
My bare feet cold on the tile floor
No one says anything 
There's a song on the radio, I sing 
I find that one type of chips I will actually eat
I buy them and I'm out on the street
I find myself listening to the sea
Siting with eyes closed underneath the big oak tree
I think as the cool sea breeze cuts through my coat
I hear the long loud horn of a nearby boat
I sit there for a long time, then my phone rings
Annoyed by the sense of reality it brings
Though I still pick up the phone 
And realize my mom wants me home