When I run
it is like the world around slips
past.
Looking up the sky seems closer
the air rips into your lungs
everything is beating.
Legs begin to tighten
breath whips faster through lungs
into muscles
beads of sweat collect in the crooks of your body.
The run is like a race with yourself
time and space run with you
as you pass street after street
blurred faces, cars that you can beat.
Your legs are the instrument
you tune them
work them
push them
until they crumple.
To run
like the pulse in my body
is a driving
thumping
force.
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