LITTLE RUNAWAY LEGS

Run away little runaway legs!  Run as fast as you can!  He and she and it can't catch you if you just take short rests between running and running and running.  Man.  Woman.  Thing.  Threatening to make you straight and narrow.  You like being bent and squirmy and bouncing from the sidewalk to the bed and to the sky.  Don't mind narrow for your body to fit between walls that press and squeeze.  Run little legs to keep your mind wide and open to the colliding air that lets you pass into the next chapter to make things up.

You're breathing hard.  Aren't you, little running legs?  Take that brief rest and feel the land pause.  Where's the camera that rocks and wobbles somewhere across the street?  Or is it right behind you?  Did you pass Darby's house?  You wonder if he's home.  Gotta go.  Run run little runaway legs.  Heading for the mountains where the snow is melting.  Got to get there before it's too dark for stories.  He, she, and it don't give up.  You want to zig zag and adventure with your voices of size and shape.  Menace and manage.  Yipes!  Mountains.  They seem so far off.  You think you still see some white on the very top.  Get there.  Got to get there before it's too dark for stories.  Too dark for stories.  Just a little white on the tops of those mountains.  How fluffy will that snow be?  Deep enough for your running and running and running little runaway legs.  Keep running and running.  Take less rests now.  Stories before it's too dark.

If the snow on the mountains is melting, oh, well, didn't need it anyway.  You remembered your shoes.  You remembered when you bolted.  Running little runaway legs.  Towards the melting snow on the tops of the mountains on the hills between those tall tall green trees.  Some are all black from lightning.  Darkness shutting books on stories.  Shutting them down and making them too dark.  Too dark.  Melting snow is OK.  You'll get those running little runaway legs in the melting snow away from he, she, and it.  To stomp in the messy mud.  Yes.  Just keep running little runaway legs from the figures in sable.  He, she, it want to keep you white.  Mud is just what you're looking forward to on the top of those mountains far off.


- Max Stoltenberg