I hear you. Calling me; mocking me.
The closer I get the louder your jibes
and the clarity of what and where
comes crashing over me in waves.
Seventy-three steps and three flights of stairs
from my car
to your floor.
Each trip harder than the previous
but easier than the sum.
Eyes follow progression
as smiles weigh
and greetings measure
Other people are here with you
pretending no one else were there.
I want to run away from prying eyes,
condescending greetings, and bright lights
advertising my every move.
Another ten steps and I confront everything
you’ve whispered in my ear since walking in this morning.
I punch in my program after stepping on your familiar black belt.
Your handrails embracing and protecting me.
I turn on my iPod
and I run
I run.
Run until I’ve outrun
everyone in that room
including me.
