There are certain times
I feel the need to flee
In hopes that someone (but not just anyone)
Will come wading through my troubles,
Searching for me.

It’s as if I am miserably childish again,
Desperate to establish the necessity of my presence.

Though laughable, in glorified imaginings,
The Rescue rivals its predecessor,
The Escape.
~~
I run.
~~
I view the world -- my world --
More plainly from a distance.

Greater quantities may be seen
The farther I flee,
And with each step, I’m allowed more clarity
Of my global truths.

Perhaps I should stay so removed,
With my obstacles revolving miles in front of me,
Slow and small,
Responding easily to the willful manipulations
Of my far away hands.

Simple.
Detached.
Alone.

Maybe I should stay here...
But then, someone comes looking.

Two desires rend my certainty
Until someone finds me,
And I am carried back home.