Trying to douse poetry with plain-speech
As if to plead professionalism in the court of the bottleneck
That has blocked (what I thought was) love but won't block me.
I don't know if I'm running away from love or towards it.
I know there's love and running, love in running
And biking, but most of all in swinging.
And if I get up early enough,
I can swing every rainless morning
Without being kicked off by cops or kids