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Evening Run
by Ashley LaneI trot to the rhythm of my soundtrack.
The warm-up: a song of wicked ladies
(in the luscious feminine sense of course).
A quick look at some chick; she reeks of
Oversated sex and disappointment—
Sad because for her, there were no trumpets.
The talkers, the walkers, the star-crossed lovers,
The twilight draws all of them to my route
It seems. I have a good beat here. ThereÂ’s no
Point in living if you canÂ’t feel alive.
And I keep moving, undulating,
Stretching sinews, sauntering through the crowd.
I like the thought of sinews undulating
Beneath, above, even in my memory.
A man, plump with routine and resentment,
That’s a Rubicon my mind will not cross—
It prefers the realm where seduction is achieved
By a home-cooked meal and a bed too far.
03/20/2007 Author's Note: Italicized line is a lyric from Garbage's "The World is Not Enough" (a song on my running playlist).
Posted on 06/19/2007
Copyright © 2024 Ashley Lane
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Richard Vince on 06/19/07 at 10:10 PM lovely snapshot. reminds me of the myriad runners i see going past here or on my walk to work. welcome back. :) |
| Posted by Kyle Anne Kish on 06/22/07 at 03:23 AM Ashley, your time was well spent running. Such a beautiful poem with "There's no Point in living if you can’t feel alive." ... gets an A++++ in my book. You put everything in order from start to finish. The ending speaks of things mostly unspoken. I like that too. |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 06/24/07 at 01:02 PM So well written. Vivid imagery. (Not really explicit.) Favorite line: "A man, plump with routine and resentment" -- so descriptive! |
| Posted by A. Reed on 09/22/11 at 11:29 AM Nuce write. |
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