Tight squeeze of hours between you and I.
I run on a schedule sideways and parallel to you as you rush to keep up.
I pace my short steps and your long strides make me sweat.
The long run you make in and out of lines and good intent
leaves me up side down and wondering;
what you hope to take from me,
what you give willingly,
why now when tomorrow is so obliging.
An itching nerve makes me timid and awake,
both eyes open and examining every minute you take
and leave;
every word,
inside every sentence,
beside me,
in the dark of newness.