Marathon
Marathon
BY E. ETHELBERT MILLER

it’s a strange time which finds me jogging
in early morning
the deadness of sleep alive in this world
the empty parks filled with unloved strangers
buildings grey with solitude
now near the end of another decade
I am witness to the loss of my twenties
a promise invisible
I run without purpose
far from the north star
I run with the sound of barking dogs closing in
I have lost count of the miles
I am older and nothing much matters
or has changed