in other news, I wrote this poem during Lighting Design today.

[rita_meter_maid]

my restless leg syndrome
has grown much worse, recently
my legs have wanderlust.
they are going stir-crazy down there
tethered to my body like two dogs staked into the backyard.
the other day my torso
caught them packing their bags
"where are you going."
"nowhere. yet."
they are dangerously restless.
i know it's a sickness, a syndrome
but it still hurts
to think
my legs are not content
with me.
that if they were able,
if someday the iron tendons and ligaments
fusing them to my body
were to disintegrate,
off my legs would go
running running running
faster and farther than they ever could
with me
burdenless and free
they would flee
to a more exciting body
a hiker, perhaps, or an Olympic swimmer
someone who appreciates them.
until that day, however,
they can only shake
like prisoners with Parkinsons
tremors through the floor
little earthquakes of desperation
irritating everyone at my table.