Torch Talk

Writing away from the book project for a moment…  Done with class.  Week 5 now officially in motion.  Leaving soon, just messaged Ms. Alice that I’ll be home in 10, so I have 9 to write.  Long day tomorrow, but I can get ahead by planning tonight.  Wrote poem in class with the students while they rushed their freewrites.  The exhaustion again confronts me, but I refuse to move from this spot, from this conference room’s T-shaped tables.  So quiet in here it actually makes me a bit uncomfortable, but I don’t budge.  I refuse to move.  Only writing assignment tonight: 1 piece for reading, typed, so most obviously the piece I wrote in class.  Keep moving, keep moving, keep moving till I’m moving over state borders, into towns I’ve never imagined seeing and having a cup of coffee in, running around.  My run tomorrow morning, has to happen— the ‘all or nothing’ nostalgia ropes itself around my reasoning and I welcome it to, I can’t stop even if I wanted to, even if this building and its silence did securely scare me.  I will tell you, I’ve never felt this feel in this building, at this hour, before.  So what it is?  Rather not give it a name, if you must know.  But me knowing what I feel and what this building says to me, me writing freely away from my book project and just because I want to in these last couple minutes to this writing father, teacher and runner, dreamer and seer, singer and reader— oh I’m just starting, jumping all around my head like my son around the house first thing in the morning and me asking myself “How the hell does he do that, be that awake when he wakes?” Pictures, future calling.  Starting.  Run.