Running Poem from 10 Pages Ago

smoke like cats' eyes on the horizon
watching closely
the reflective strips turn with the traffic lights
even as we disappear
into the abysmal dark
on the other side of the intersection
stories left untold still echoing
along the dark alleys
where we run in place,
half paralyzed with fear.
blister shift ouch
what if
no matter
speed up
the reflective strips remain,
you see.