Running

 

I flow like water.

Passing from one faint circle of light to the next,

My breath smooth, my legs moving rhythmically.

Across one darkened neighborhood and then another,

Street cleaners whisk past, big machines with their circular brushes whooshing.

Past houses where families sleep.

Dogs barking in back yards.

Cars in driveways wrapped in dew.

Pink air colors the houses, trees, lawns.

I run until my darkness is washed from my flesh,

Gone with the rising sun.

I run until there is no desire, no memory, nothing but the movement of muscle.

The edge of the sun appears at the horizon

Like a red-hot knife.

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