tisdag 13 april 2010

Morning running poem

I’m waking up way too early and of course failing to go back to sleep. The irritation is growing and continuously finding new targets, thinking ... today, I must write "misanthrope" on my facebook status ... but hesitant due to this contradiction Act... Bird cries cuts like nail crayons in through the window cracks and the jackdaws starts arguing about the best view from the chimney crown, small conservative sunbeams creeping up between the shutters and painting hot lines on the narrow bedroom wall - -------- Shit, I’ll better to get up, instead of lying down and turning the bed clothes. A morning, perfect for running ... slowly taking on my well-adjusted running clothes and newly purchased pulse recording devices ....

Soon I am out in the cold morning air, it seems to have been frost during the night, hares having the morning meeting in the fields, they look a bit nonchalantly up against me as I lumber by, firmly on the ball to quickly set off if I were to show me too curious; but still a good deal tougher than their small cousins, the rabbits. amphetamine eyed they father aimlessly hither and thither. It is quiet, morning traffic has not yet begun to growl ... a lone car engine sounds, a window scraper cleans a windshield ... when I ran past the lonely little house, I see that the man has scratched two cars, a gentlemans gesture ... He looks suspiciously at me, and I feel as a class traitor who luxurunning around in a fancy sport outfit and I’m so ashamed that I reserve my greeting.

Do not re-tempo, take me in anyway down by the dams which is fog-smoking in the low morning sun, two swans floating, stems turned backwards and heads resting on their backs, a duck is doing its best to wake them when it is aware of me ... or not an ordinary duck ... it sounds krriiack, krriiack, quack but then it also has a regular and ... had it not been for mist I would had been able to see how it looked ... and then been even further ignorance. There are ... what can I say ... remnants of a swan, wings and some completely bare bones, is it the fox who had been there ... or a dog? In the bare bushes there are remains of a settlement ... a little broken bike camping tent, some pots, a barbecue grill, blue underwear, a pink sock, I do not observe so well because I’m just passing by ...

Now, the morning traffic snake awoke and the growling is growing stronger, I stopped to look at lonely motorists on the highway travelling towards their jobs. ... Remarkably many go alone ... Perhaps we should start a facebook group for the misanthropes

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