Counting

If I were blind, I would count every step,
know how many taps on the tile floor
it would take to get to the cafeteria,
and on the way back to turn right on the
15th, and then left on the 3rd after that.

I wouldn't have this job, though. I'd be
somewhere else, tabulating my footsteps
from the couch to the kitchen, or using
flicks of my tongue as tick marks,
each a tooth in my head.

When you'd pick me up, when your hand
would lead mine down the 3 concrete steps
which introduce my front door, perhaps grab
my elbow to support me(beautiful sympathy),
and when you would
guide me down the brick walkway and asphalt
driveway to your car, 14 clacks and
16 muffled strides,
I would pretend I hadn't counted.

If I were blind, I would be a spreadsheet.