Tale of the Runner, A Poem by Seymour Shubin


Tale of the Runner

I must have been six,
seven at most,
when this crazy neighbor woman
ask me to do her a favor,
and since you always did neighbors a favor,
I nodded and she brought around
this covered basket with two handles
that had wild scratching sounds inside it
and told me to take it to the creek
which was about a block away
and I carried it, hating myself
and I couldn’t wait to drop it
which I did,
in the field near the creak
not in it
as if that made a difference
to poor crazed kitty.
And I ran and ran
and ran and ran
but never far enough.

Seymour Shubin