Writing Marathon

I just walked by a tree that had feet, Its roots stretched all the way to the street. The sky is free of animal-shaped clouds, As we walk in the sun, trying to find a crowd. Hey, look, it’s some little kids with food on their faces, They walk, jumping into the shadows the sun traces. College kids walk by, rolling their eyes at us, We’re crazy and laughing and making a fuss, Over the half-dead, half-awake flying insect on the ground, It talks to us without making a sound. We poke it and it doesn’t even move, Sorry, strange bug, for disrupting your groove.