Long Run

The ants in my parents backyard used to bother me so much. Tiny moving parts Invading the space I’d claimed as mine. Single file lines making their way in between our blades of grass. Them versus me us versus them. How many could I avoid or eliminate. The faster the better watch me race me. Minutes down to seconds where’s your watch give me your wrist. Now I know it was never mine. Not the grout keeping the back patio sealed together. Not the potted plants begging for a summer rainstorm. Not the hills of green brown yellow soil leading into the row of track homes up the road.

Time passes and we set them free. Let them get to where they’re going. Why stop them. What’s set in motion will stay in motion don’t let me get in the way. But tell me, where are you going again? Tracking as many miles as years this Time. Seems a bit extreme. What are you running from? My mom says my shoulders are almost too brown this summer. You wouldn’t recognize me. This only happens late July she says. She missed a spot. You missed a spot. Do you want to come over? There are two black sedans still cooling off in our driveway. 9th house on the left did you forget already? Let’s leave enough room between us for something to wedge its way. How’s your ring finger? Thin tan and cold to the touch? Remind me.