You never have to follow me into the middle of the street.

I run there,

In the road,

Intentionally,

Swerving

Into oncoming cars

And back again to the coming

Cars, honking, yelling, polluting,

Like a tree asking for the felling

I hike up hilly highways

Dead center,

And I find a strange, awe inspiring calm,

Amidst the hurricane of metal, oily, exhausting,

Wind generated by every vehicle a shake

In the sputtering, vibrating, gutteral, shuffling

And peace does strike me

In that instance of turbulance

I look with the eye's of the storm

And decide that I'd rather die than live in fear

I have it all there, in the road--

Quality and quantity.

I run there.

Without a care for a car

And I also clutch the shoulders of admiration

In the humbling presence of something

That can so swiftly take my life

Or spare me at a similar speeded whim

Sparing me in a gush of relief

As the wind cools my over heated flesh,

I remain there,

When my running no longer wishes to step

I rest there, in the road – my unconditional home

I sit there

Dead center,

Inconspicuous.

And I sleep as the cars frantically

Attempt to save my life

At the last second

Only to die themselves.

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