Running

I knew from the start you were running.
You’ve got those runner’s eyes
that say “I’m here
now, but in my mind
I’m far away.”

Too far away to face
that paperwork that you know
was due in yesterday, but
you didn’t get round to.
"Gravity," you think.
"Anything that ties me down
isn’t worth staying still for.”

You told me “it’s a shame
the world is round, because
everything always catches up.”
I knew that running was
your nature not by choice
but because you’d not yet learned
to float away.

I knew, as I’m a runner too.
I was stretching at the table 
just in case you reached out
and tried to grab a hold.
I wondered where you were
as we snacked on our hors d’oeuvres:

Probably back at home
watching TV and forgetting
that awful date you just went on.

It’s hard to feel free
when everything catches up
eventually. I hope that
you’re still running.
Accountable to nothing
but the wind in your face
as you sweat off each droplet
of responsibility.

I think that we’re perfect for each other:
let’s stay away forever.
I’ll run one way
and you the other
that way
we’ll never catch up.