Bird As Fish

I wrote this in the summer and have just recently found it. Although it may seem a contradiction to what I have recently written about in "The Rights of Home", they both express different aspects of myself, so it all pans out in the end.

I have these dreams of being a runner.
And I can run and run, far and fast until I am where I should be, far away from here.
These dreams last for so long, pleasurable, I engage in them until the last breaking moment of slumber,
And run and run.
The exhilaration, the pure exhilaration of solely
Me
Sky
Road.
Solely these things,
The sky, my blanket.
The road, my purpose.
(I cannot stay here, my feet positively itch.)
And I run for hours,
For days,
Until in my dream I cannot remember all the places I have been - towns, hills,
There have been too many.
All I can think about is the road, and how much I love it.
And I leave and walk away.
So many times and everytime I want to stay away for good.
Give me the road.

© 2003 All rights reserved MJ Jackson
This article may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the permission of the author.