Running


Andre Peltier
︎ SEPT 14, 2021


People run
     in groups,
            in pairs,
      w/ dogs on leashes,
for cabs & for their
     lives.
People run
     through woods,
down trails,
     over hills,
across roads &
     sidewalks.
Running for food
     or health
or from police.
    Running w/ music
or podcasts
     or w/ babies in
strollers
or chatting w/ their
     companions.
“It’s a lovely day,”
     they say to one another
in their expensive shoes
     & expensive shirts,
breathable yoga pants
                 & baseball caps.
“Let’s do another mile,”
     they say as they
break a sweat
     & lose their breath. 
Always chasing
     something.
Never catching the truth.
     Unable to wrest it
from hiding places:
     It rests always
over the next horizon,
     beyond the next
rainbow,
     around the next corner,
behind the next tree.


     We run
to ward off the
     future.
We run to hold time
     frozen in amber.
One more mile
     & we postpone the
void.
                   One more lap
& we can return
     to the world
to shower and face
     the day,
but facing that truth
     is hard.
No amount of laps can
     Forestall
the end of the race.
     There’s the ever leering
photo finish,
                  but we’re afraid to
leer back.
     What are a few years
more or less?
     Where is the finish line?
Always right in front of us…
until it isn’t.























































 






Andre Peltier
is a Lecturer III at Eastern Michigan University where he has taught African American Literature, Afrofuturism, Science Fiction, Poetry, and Freshman Composition since 1998. He lives in Ypsilanti, Michigan, with his wife, children, turtles, dog, and cat. His poetry has appeared in or is forthcoming from various journals and anthologies.