He runs
 As though stretching an invisible leash,
Or a fish on a line,
 Playing out,
 Pausing,
 Running again,
Then stopping, anxious lest he put too many footsteps
 Between himself and the mother
 Who pushes the just-abandoned carriage
 Before her.

He runs
 With the world before him,
But only so long as mother,
 Walking,
Is not too far off the pace.

He runs
 As though lost,
Barreling backward,
 For fright lives
Just a single step too far.
 

4/11/2000
 

Index     Perspective