Inspired by Sung Kang’s #whatiseewhenirundaily series, except I don’t run daily.


Disclaimer: highly experimental piece (as I venture into new writing styles)


Four in the afternoon, the sun in full bloom,
my desire to run as blue as my pair of shoes,
but still I go, phone and keys jangling in tow,
as I trudge past the last blocks in a fast walk
to a sheltered walkway that blots the worst
of the heat and the beating rays,
but as soon as the traffic lights turn a bright red,
it’s time to head towards the edge;
break into fast strides to the other side.

Pounding the pavement; left foot, then right,
last blocks vanishing from sight.
Disconnected from my comfort zone,
finding myself distinctively alone,
I let the rhythm of footsteps,
the thud-thudding and the tap-tapping
carry me forward, quarter mile, then another,
trickles of sweat nary a bother,
heat no longer as harsh,
noises around me increasingly hushed.

I saw not a familiar scene around,
found instead a quiet countryside town,
built on an imagination upside down;
couldn’t tell fantasy from reality,
swapped tiny hills for majestic mountains;
sweltering summers for soothing autumns;
trucks and cranes for fields and lush plains;
hotels and skyscrapers for rustic, modest cottages;
a dream of mine, of desires intimately intertwined. 

Reality hit a rewind,
a made-up world unravelled as I travelled back
to the present, summer intact;
the sound of car horns blaring, old uncles swearing;
the sight of the heartland’s rush hour;
workers clamouring home for a warm shower.
So was I, as I turned the last corner,
and although it seemed like
I spent all my energy running,
who knew that daydreaming
could be this exhausting?

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