i run, only to keep my feet from going numb
i'm hardly a shadow in your presence

the girls are singing now, soft and high, in the clouds
you are breathing out the breath of color
tangible, pliable color
blue, purple, green

i wish you wouldn't
it's hard to run in puddles of brown

i saw her sitting in a thistle patch, up the mountain
she was dressed in wool, despite the hot humid weather
in her hand she held an ivy tree
which grew, over time, to wraps its arms around her

when i looked back, you had turned into water
still running
your colors spewing erratically now
diluting as they ran down your sloshy body

(why on earth must i run through this mess)

i watched as your fingertips began to pour out water
a thin transparent stream

the girl in the ivy won't stop crying
and the voices in the clouds are falling further and further
out of key

muddier, wetter, slower i run
up to my shins in your product

minutes pass like days as you decide to laugh
a piercing, rhythmic laugh almost in slow motion
flailing your fountain arms about
like rubber snakes

it's then that i stop
standing silently and stiff as a board
knee deep in murky water
i breathe two heavy belly breaths
and you're gone