Running to Wake In a dream, I am running in the dark Faster than I ever have before, over everything. Nothing is an obstacle, My feet untired My legs trained My body unafraid I’m a tenth grade boy who’s lived his life in a hundred square miles. Your voice, sweet, entices me back over. Your face is cinnamon, the hair draping down your shoulders is the pale yellow Of the first leaves of late September, Those leaves that I’ve been waiting for since the first balmy days of May. Your tongue is hot on me, Your fingers to my scalp late as the day is long, And quiet in the valleys of Oregon. And my body is ice cold, when i awake sometimes, I am like everyone else: Until the form and shape of memory shakes my hand, And says Welcome Back. It is so good you are here. Like for everyone and no one, It waits.