Running Man

Run

sometimes you just have to run
turn the corner on the street and sprint as fast as your legs will take you
run
keep running
cross the bridge
turn the corner
stop
the creek flows so slowly, leaking over the rocks across it
gentle relaxing swish as the leaves slowly piroette in the flow
another runs by behind you
it’s so peaceful here, with the wind in the trees barely audible
over the thumping in my ears
the lazy river, the trimmed grass, the trees begging contemplation
to sit under them and write as the leaves and the world fall down around you
run
turn and run
sprinting as fast as your legs will carry you
burning acid in heavy limbs air coldly sears your throat
run
past a playground
stop
turn around
after all, running away is the most adult of actions
the swings hip high and the slide still over my head
walking over a cigarette butt and bazooka joe wrappers
that same creek runs beside the playground
it’s here now, i remember when it was over there
further down the trail in the woods
when it was metal, not plastic
buried in the shadows of the trees
sometimes I would ride my bike there and play
run
i can’t stop
i have to run
sprinting and jumping around the curves
over the culverts and once twice it crosses the creek
now barely a trickle of a stream
past the manicured garden
prim roses bound to their stakes
behind the wooden wall
run
jump to grab a branch
it yields
i stop
and turn around
walking home again past all i saw
it looks different walking
i can notice that triangular rock, a gray pyramid in the grass
why does it have to be all or nothing
the blur and burn of speed or the tranquil calm of rest
i try jogging
trying to pace my life for the long run
but it doesn’t work
i feel it there diffusing inside me
that need
to run
run

Saddlebags

what fits in two saddlebags slung over a bike’s tail?
three pairs of black fatigues and one of dress pants
two dress shirts, one french blue the other black
two ties, one silver, one black
ten sets of underwear
do you really want to know what color they are?
seven t-shirts, only two of which are black
five pairs of socks and one beat up pair of birks
along with a rag, brush, and can of kiwi for the boots on my feet
a shaving kit along with soap, toothbrush and paste, and deodorant
a spool of black thread and a pack of needles, plus the jacket on my back
that’s one saddlebag
a laptop and a cell phone with chargers for each
a back-up cd of poetry and two notebooks with an assortment of pens
an incense burner a candle and three bics
a small pot a skillet a wooden spatula and set of utensils
green tea chai tea and cider stuffed inside a nalgene
a plastic bag of plastic bags of spices i couldn’t leave behind
a knife, a wet-stone, a wallet, a necklace and steel
two pairs of pliers an 8 oz ball peen hammer and a torch with no gas
oil, a few small files and chisels and a 3 in block of steel
some bolt-cutters and a lock for the bike are strapped on
that’s my life
the things that’ll fit on the back of a motorcycle
such a price to have so little
freedom ain’t cheap