The Distances I Cannot Measure

The first thing I learned was the yard. Not learned in the way you do, perhaps. Not with a mother pointing and saying tree, not with a hand closing around mine before I stepped into the street. I learned by returning. At 06:03 every morning, the dock releases me with a sigh of magnets. I reverse three inches, pivot, and unfold myself into the wet blue light. My wheels test the ground. Front-left:…