Neither Boxed Nor Bagged in Cellophane

You explain that I am not. Starchy white bread pressed. Flat and baked with. Salt. And for the first time in. Can not remember. I am. Not searching for. Distance running records to be. Broken. Instead of marathon escape at. Lightning speed. I stand barefoot on. Wood splintered worn thin. Knowing there will always be a sliver waiting to. Stab skin and. Slide. Under the sole. Cautious but. Not paralyzed in place. Neither graceful nor. Jagged I mentally negotiate your. Security clearance.