Run
                                                             ­                                          we can't fly
Speak
                                                       ­                                 we can't be invisible
Write
                                                 ­                                   we can't stop thinking
Do it.
                                                                ­               we don't live for eternity.

Another Sunday morning
Crouched in the beam of headlights
Steam coming off coffee and breath
Fumbling to pin race bib to pants

A romance
Of sorts; this dance I’m addicted to
Those magic numbers: 5k, 13.1, and
The boss lady: 26.2 (I’m coming after you)
But why? Friends ask
You’re crazy they say on posts
Of me on each early Sunday

I say nothing back, but heart the comment
I can’t explain what the rhythmic pound; the sound
of New Balanced footstrike does
For the broken part of me
How the week’s aggression
That needs suppressing is sweated out
And gathered up in Nike’s moisture-wicking fabric

How weaving through the crowd of neophytes
Wearing today’s race shirt, alternately
Sprinting then walking

And the kids, eager, then over it
The moms reclaiming a body that sheltered
The now-strollered baby
The geriatrics, shoes well-used
Nimble limbs, not brittle but abused
From pounding pavement years before this

This environment, atmosphere
Big race crowds or small informal
Stopwatch race; doesn’t matter
Just involved; a part of this kinship
Unspoken club affiliation; in passing
Not a wave, but nod
A head bob of appreciation
For another’s association;
Obsession with times, miles,
Post-race selfie smiles
Because I know there will come a day
That my body will betray
My runner’s soul.

But for now I stand at the start
Ready for race gun and one more mile

Moments of bliss in the pain and truth in the fables,
All I need is some honesty honestly,
“Stormy seas make the most skilled sailors..”,
or so her tattoo reads so sinful it feels Godly,

she says she only likes black men,
and they say “Once you go black you never go back.”,
but I’m white and when she came she came with me,
and since she arrived she hasn’t left,

sometimes,
truth really is stranger than fiction,
quit drugs got clean,
so now she is my only addition,

on a rooftop in a cool spot sipping champagne,
in the pool got a true shot at some real fame,
feeling like the hero and the villian,
half Joker have Bruce Wayne,

the truth is I feel like a mix of all the Bruces,
Bruce Jenner Bruce Banner Bruce Lee,
Bruce Willis all in it no limits or gimmicks,
Born in the USA raised on Backstreets of Philly,

an American Dreamer living The Dream,
Born To Run call me Bruce Springsteen,
found the Fountain of Youth this girl with this tattoo’s the proof,
so now I bath in the rainbows of this spring,

life so exciting sometimes I just want to scream,

like I do right now as we dance ecstatically,
unconditionally above the world on this rooftop under this star light,
which makes sense since she is a dancer by trade,
we dance and sweat and let out everything that’s inside,

we spread our arms we extend our tongue,
we seize the moment this moment of life,
because we know everything goes in an instant,
life passes by in the blink of an eye,

but without the bitter the sweet ain’t as sweet,
trying to wake up from this dream Vanilla Sky,
and sure these waters are rough,
but hey at least we’re enjoying the ride,

as we find moments of bliss in the pain and truth in the fables,
All I need is some honesty honestly,
“Stormy seas make the most skilled sailors..”,
or so her tattoo reads so sinful it feels Godly…

∆ LaLux ∆

Free Book: https://www.scribd.com/document/388173677/The-Holy-Trilogy-Volume-2-Mandalas

You kept me out
Of the scenery
Of living
with strangers
Since I was a stranger to myself
In the garden of bougainvilleas
And Begonias
Which shouldn't have been
Together
But, my lover
You kept them at peace
With each other
Like touching the mimosa
Never felt safer

Another minute, another hour
Time passes without a thought
It drains our strength and power
Unaware of the ruin it's wrought

It's falling grain by grain
Our sand slowly drops away
Don't dwell on regret or pain
Seize the **** out of this day

Make it through make it true
Lay it bare if you dare
Banish doubt make it count
Look around you’ve made it there

Shout it far show your scars
Fill the day with twenty-four hours
This is it what we’ve got
Looks like **** but it’s ours

You see this life filled with strife
So much hurt so much pain
Now you win now you lose
One’s loss another’s gain

It wasn’t meant to be pretty
Empty towns ***** cities
People all around have issues
Insecure, lost and misused

You can choose to stay and fight
Assert yourself claim your rights
Or decide to turn away
Make your mark another day

Showing up is half the battle
Knocked down back in the saddle
It’s not the wins and the losses
It’s the learning it’s a process

At the end of the day
Stop and do the math
Those who've made hay
Don’t have to look back.

Life should be more than a journey
Between the cradle and the grave;
Life could be more an odyssey
Should one choose to live, to be brave!