Nighttime Run-Thoughts

Puffing, I run a loose lap around the ring road,
Imagining a loose lasso looping around your heart;
But, of course, the slack rope slops sulkily to the ground,
With an air-whoosh-through-dust sound,
Uselessly broad, hopelessly forlorn, nowhere near
The distant dot of you.

...Not, I think, unlike the semantic structure
Of the words I have for you.
Look how they limply fall to the ground!
See how far from truth they land!
Ensnaring little-to-no meaning as they tumble out,
And dribble down my chin.

Like the bounding wall of an atom,
A limit illimitably and ridiculously far
From the thing it takes as centre.

It occurs to me that my lasso loop around the town
May as well be a shrinking noose,
And my muscles tighten as I tie the knot.
But, untying my trainers, I put those thoughts to rest,
And, exhausted, I put the kettle on, a little less depressed.