runner
 from start to end,

you were a runner.

it was in all of your

stories, intricately

woven in your voice

as you spoke of the

places you have left.

it runs in the family,

i suppose, and you

weren't the one that

started your running,

your mother was.

i think half of all

mankind's impulses to

run come from our

mothers. even once

you could settle

you dreamed only

of leaving again,

finding excuses to skip

town whenever you

could find the ride out

by bus, by car,

to return to the past

just briefly. just for

a breath of fresh

air. you spoke

infinitely of moving

again, of fears of

eviction and the

horror of getting

stuck.

i don't know why

i found myself

suprised when you left

again.

now I only find

myself curious as to

how loing it'll be

before the itch to

run re-awakens

within you.

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