Litkicks Message Board Archive

run past

Posted to Poetry




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.