Sometimes runners looks ridiculous:
Muscular, limber women and skinny men
Heel-toeing it down Speedway at six miles per hour
With nothing visibly chasing them.
I wish I were chasing them.
Sometimes I have dreams where
I’m running with full breath, where
My lungs are clear buoys holding
My feather-light body in the clouds I’m pushing through.
In real life, I am just a rock wearing Addidas,
Trying to propel my way through rain and pollen
With anxiety hung around my neck,
And spilling down my back.
Maybe runners only look ridiculous
Because I’m always watching them from behind.