Running

At the end of a summer’s day

She put on her running shoes

And left home

With no destination

Only long nourished bitterness

It was the rage that made her run

She left her furious footprints

On the streets of her beloved city

A marathon of madness.

She knew that the town

Would never offer freedom

Only the relief of exhaustion,

 the peace of fatigue.

She also knew that they all came

to settle in the comfort of running

to savor speed,

to get drunk on velocity.

Ever since that summer’s day

She has been running

imprinting the blacktop with her fury

wondering how many stories

are right beneath her feet

of people who just keep on running.