That night I ran,
Not toward or away
From anything, really,
Through the summer
Weighted air as blue
And quiet as an ocean
Under constellations
Rendered like the city lights
In rushes on the warped
Narration of the bay
Beneath me.

Beneath me
Gravel slipped,
And into night,
A park like all the rest,
Whose trees picked silver
From a breath.
Garnet sweat and lucky Friday,
Passed in sprint those glimpses
Of a cityscape whose traffic
Drains like memories
Into the suburbs.

I’d have stayed running, too,
But I’d have found only a breath
to lose,
A lonely voice to fall flat
Because I didn’t listen,
Though we wouldn’t talk
Much that night,
Just stare at one another
As the hotel clock
Flipped cold
And adamant–
that stalwart thing–
Complaining it’s too hot to sleep.

#Vancouver #Washington

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