Monday, August 23, 2010

92- its paces

keep the car running, i can't stay
here for much longer. fingers itching out an
impatient hum, drumming the still air.
some people move to keep things whole, too
much of a responsibility for me. i move to
keep moving, to stop thinking, to stop dwelling
on any given problem. the moment a moment hangs
in the air a little too long, a pause, the brain starts
doing its paces in my skull, back and forth and back and
it doesn't stop unless i'm moving. keep the car running.

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