Indecision

My sneakers mirror the split of my own indecision, turn right, or sway left? Birds talk about me in the third person, as I confuse them as the resident bohemian/ intellectual today in the woods. My run becomes my illicit pleasure smuggled in under the opening of the sun. A late winter breeze arrives on my nose, setting a tear in motion at the corner of my eye. Underneath my running jacket an arc of crisp air fringes on the soldiers now piercing through my sports bra. My architectural columns today, one of total erection, as I stand parallel to the groping of the trees. Cold air on my flesh, hot sweat of my breath, both deliver a river of collision traveling down around my navel. I could run an extra mile this morning, or just run on, for forever.....both are debatable...