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.

I hike up hilly highways
Dead center
And find a strange awe inspiring calm
Among the hurricane of metal wind
Generated by every vehicle a shake
In the sputtering, vibrating, gutteral, shuffling.

And peace does strike me

In that instance of turbulence
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.

The wind rushes relief

Cooling my over heated flesh.

I remain there
When my running no longer wishes to step.

I rest there; in the road; my unconditional home

(cont. in the sequel)