we run in circles only to bump into ourselves
we reckon this escape would bring us somewhere
but how could it be somewhere when we run infinitely
the same circuit
till someone closes the gate
a streetlight casts that condescending look
the sprinklers slippery gossip on willing cement
cars shamelessly hoot and mock and glare
and you are left to thread on higher pavements
avoiding eye contacts,
and a line no longer becomes the shortest
distance between you and yourself
because there is no line,
there are just endless
infinite
circles.
11:31 PM
March 20, 2013
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