Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Flee the Warmth

Nights of running streets

Memories trickle down like spring mist

Wetting the face I wear now

The pains of gasping for air

Throttled chest aching are burned into my brain

Scarred by too many lanes and avenues of avoidance traversed

Never a backward glance given unless to eye the

Shimmering lights immersed in the dusty bodies of moths

Sometimes pausing at this unexpected beauty to rest I

Lingered under those clots of dusty stars until they dissolved

Showers of gray fuzz blanketing the cracked pavement

Undeniable warmer I then, found myself, on the run again

Sheryl McCurdy

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