I guess I am running away as slowly as I can
caught short in the push of rush hour
traffic thickens and slows
burning red

sunlight settles above the black
silty layers of brown and orange
come to rest on the shoulders of darkness

the girl at the bustop
straight black hair
and a chubby face
wide hips
and straight black pants

The buildings rise and fall
stop motion lungs
as distance
and time
eat up houses
and strip malls
block-lettered in primary colors
that spell out a thousand witless puns
without grace or style

I am running away from your piano fingers
and your almost silent laugh
and your blue-grey eyes
and the tiny scar in the middle of your forehead

The phone keeps ringing
it is a needle in my ear
it is for my roomate
every time

AcB 12.12.01