6 1/2

I'm running north
from the Balboa Pier
on a pathway next to the sand,
it's late afternoon
and I'm looking ahead at
Newport Pier a mile
in the distance,
it juts out into an
uncommonly still Pacific,
it seems to connect to the
end of Catalina Island,
the sun, orange, descending
down into the heart of it,
light bathes the houses I pass
in orange and pink light
and makes the glassy water
a metallic blue,
crossing the pier I run towards
the river as the sun disappears,
passing men on bicycles
and women running,
I'm not wearing my contacts
and their faces are blurred,
I just see their shapes against
the water, the purple sky,
the haze over Long Beach,
the sun has gone behind the island
as I reach the end of the strand
and I run up 36th street
and onto Ocean Front,
I take off my sunglasses
and it's dark now on the narrow street
in between two story buildings
and quiet, I listen to the sound
of my own breathing and run
faster, looking straight ahead now
and my stride shortens but gets quicker
and it feels like I'm gliding on the asphalt
and I hold my head still and run faster
thinking of nothing but movement
and my eyes defocus and everything is
blurred around me but the river jetty
a mile in the distance, my breathing
getting louder and louder
and night coming, night coming.