Jogging Down 13th Street
first few strides are always the most taxing
focused breathing
eyes grow heavy
surroundings turn dreamy
elongated lights streak through visual plane
glasses mask the face
eyes divulge more than the mouth does
but my lenses are smeared with sweat and it is the world which is hidden from me now
sorrow, self-destruction I can’t hang out with you when you’re like this
engines grind in response to shifting gears
lights whirl past and blur into a single vanishing point
extraterrestrial
tires spin on slick streets like vulcanized sunsets on asphalt horizons
rainwater emitted from all directions like surreal light beams
love exemplified
however exempt here
Life South wants my donated blood in desperation while the Women’s Resource Center down the block aborts babies
people chastise Hitler, but it was Henry Ford who was the real sinner
so many are lost on streets, turnpikes, and highways
I am the lone runner
construction
manifolds, twisted and kinked, sprout from cracked, unstable foundation
your absurd attempt at masonry doesn’t not fool me one bit
plywood in place of cylinder block this building isn’t as sturdy as it could be
deconstruct & rebuild & rebuild & rebuild & rebuild & rebuild
pain deep-rooted in shins
travels upward breeding ecstasy into lungs
medical sensitivities to fog devices
legs push to continue
as Virgil did guide Dante through the nine circles of Hell
running from work
running from albatross
running from past present future
running from past appearances back fat cornballs neglect the time Cassandra tried telling me my crippling fear of the opposite sex was due to the way mommy treated me being scarred deep down yet again self-infliction childhood geek
running into the grave
thoughts return to the book I was reading earlier
how I clumsily thumbed through its pages
and ripped out its last chapter before I was done
exonerated from consequence and fruition
a small footnote of life but still a footnote just the same and there forever
a man destined to hang can never drown
a familiar cyclist passes by not recognizing who I am
try chasing him down, much to no avail
His battery powered tail light flashing at me with mocking enticement
He’s too far away from me now
instead head home the same path same streetlights same obstructions
ever the lone runner
focused breathing
eyes grow heavy
surroundings turn dreamy
elongated lights streak through visual plane
glasses mask the face
eyes divulge more than the mouth does
but my lenses are smeared with sweat and it is the world which is hidden from me now
sorrow, self-destruction I can’t hang out with you when you’re like this
engines grind in response to shifting gears
lights whirl past and blur into a single vanishing point
extraterrestrial
tires spin on slick streets like vulcanized sunsets on asphalt horizons
rainwater emitted from all directions like surreal light beams
love exemplified
however exempt here
Life South wants my donated blood in desperation while the Women’s Resource Center down the block aborts babies
people chastise Hitler, but it was Henry Ford who was the real sinner
so many are lost on streets, turnpikes, and highways
I am the lone runner
construction
manifolds, twisted and kinked, sprout from cracked, unstable foundation
your absurd attempt at masonry doesn’t not fool me one bit
plywood in place of cylinder block this building isn’t as sturdy as it could be
deconstruct & rebuild & rebuild & rebuild & rebuild & rebuild
pain deep-rooted in shins
travels upward breeding ecstasy into lungs
medical sensitivities to fog devices
legs push to continue
as Virgil did guide Dante through the nine circles of Hell
running from work
running from albatross
running from past present future
running from past appearances back fat cornballs neglect the time Cassandra tried telling me my crippling fear of the opposite sex was due to the way mommy treated me being scarred deep down yet again self-infliction childhood geek
running into the grave
thoughts return to the book I was reading earlier
how I clumsily thumbed through its pages
and ripped out its last chapter before I was done
exonerated from consequence and fruition
a small footnote of life but still a footnote just the same and there forever
a man destined to hang can never drown
a familiar cyclist passes by not recognizing who I am
try chasing him down, much to no avail
His battery powered tail light flashing at me with mocking enticement
He’s too far away from me now
instead head home the same path same streetlights same obstructions
ever the lone runner