Can a runner be a work of art?
Can a runner be a ray of light?
Can a runner be a God?
A bird soars.
A lion roars.
The runner’s foot falls.
Eternity is breached along the plain path.
Timelessness is enacted on the flat endless road.
Nowhere is found in the forward and backward.
I saw her eyes.
I saw his sunken cheeks.
I saw him scuffing along.
They were a group on a journey.
That one was alone.
That one was pulled by a dog.
Red.
Black.
Shades.
There was no point.
It doesn’t matter.
No one cares.
I’ll be back next week.
I’ll be at it again tomorrow.
Another shipment of shoes has arrived.
The wet stuff hung up.
The notation made in the book.
The shower was magnificent.
How long?
How far?
Did you win?
No…
I just went along.
I duck away from the fat questioner.
I cannot explain.
I don’t want to talk about it.
My polite replies are killing me.
Please don’t say it.
Please keep your opinion to yourself.
Go take your meds while I eat these carrots.
I am a runner.
I ran today.
I’ll run again tomorrow.
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