Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Running

Running

Up and down, streets and sidewalks.
Look left, look right, cross and repeat.
Try not to get chased by the Peterson’s dog.
Ignore the part of your mind telling you to stop;
think only of yourself, as long as you can stand it.
Let your mind wander, distracted, count breaths.
Want to stop want to stop want to stop…
The pounding of the pavement will go straight to your brain,
the pattern and the push clear your mind for other things
and you stop thinking about yourself, you think of:
rainbow flags, Obama, Hawaii, seashells, pint glasses,
that book you’ll never finish, your room you’ll never clean,
the friend you’ll never see again, the last time you saw them,
A M Homes, Oscar Wilde, Marques de Sade, James Joyce,
Amanda Palmer, freedom, your mark and how to make it,
The wind on your face feels like a lovers touch;
your skin is sticky and alive, too warm and possibly burned.
The Peterson’s dog doesn’t bother you on the second lap.
 Nancy Drew, mini Moleskins, Amelia Earhart, magic lands,
robots playing the cello; can they feel the wrong notes?
Can they hear the applause in their mechanical hearts?
Would you have to tip a robot waitress? Laser eyes.
No one will ever be the same. Never say never.
A tiny electronic voice tells you the mile, you stop.
Walk it off, return to now, the robots can wait.
Smile at your neighbors.

Nothing is worth doing without a smile. 








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