My Feet Are Asleep

I’m hungry and I do not know why. My stomach rarely runs empty but, surely, any proud and established omnivore knows that its not just the morsels that quench. A balcony is a good start. I dirty my socks as I step out onto mine, and watch this world swim by – oblivious and with attitude. I stand there quietly while the wind cleans my eyelashes and I breath in the busy putrefaction. I ask for nothing but the simplicity of life to blossom with candor and embrace me like a lost dog. I ask for nothing but brass & breath on a shoulder and the carnival that tends to follow. But I’m afraid that movement and action have blurred their step.
I track them down to discern the difference.