charging past me
the wind pushed at the tails of my coat
their flapping corners preceding me.
two blind tentacles of my scarf
reached out from my neck.
and if i did catch up with them?
they would only pull further ahead
until the wind,
tired from its run and rush,
might turn to a fickle breeze.
then i could uncover my neck,
allow sweet puffs of air to kiss it,
and wander
and make my own legs strong.


2.6.98