run past

by they lion grow

Posted to Poetry on 2004-02-13 20:52:00

Wow, sometimes when
I run past your house
particles of asphalt
simply shred
the air around
me, and i FEEL
something happening.
Like when I jump
up and slap my
sweaty palm against
this flagging street
sign, and leave
five fingers…
and a palm.
What a mess,
you, me, and
silence. The
night and your
auditory senses.
Wisk wisk,
I’m HERE,
and you are too.







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