In the mild June heat just outside my window a mom with stroller races by me never to be caught. My slow tingling feet envy her swift muscle flow.
I imagine her heart beat rapid yet smooth like a robin in flight, mouth full with new twig, no sore wings from miles flown— happy with joy and accomplishment.
Yet, my heavy breath falls heavy and slow, lingering, dropping my soul to the dark floor, heavy and slow, urging, urging, my cavity’s ghost to catch even with that long stride.
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