i’ve tried for three weeks to write about how this makes me feel,
because i haven’t been able to figure out
why i’m chasing a lack of air in my lungs
and fire in my legs
and the feeling of never wanting to put food
in my stomach again.
i don’t know why i hate paying forty dollars
for gas but i have no problem dropping
one hundred and twenty on soles to save
my feet and my face as i run. i can’t clarify
my longing for miles or identify
my drive to move onward but i can swear
it’s made me stronger. call it
chemical or crazy or whatever you want
but i’m only glad i found it when i did.
i’ve tried to figure out what keeps me moving.
i thought for a few weeks it was
what is now past.
but i have found that the things
on which i depend
are as stable as the sand and rock
and broken road on which i run.
i cannot tell you why i press on
only that i must, because there is a burning
in my lungs that can only be stopped
by further forming my legs into
sinuous iron to combat whatever may be next.
i cannot figure out why i chase a lack of air,
but i can give you a few small reasons
why i’ll never stop.