I run with a good crowd.
I run with bold-hearted creatures. They reach for life with its nails and its grime. They breathe it in.
Bars at night. The music starts to swing. We’re the ones who move with the sound. We don’t lean on walls and stare. My feet are untrained, I am no graceful dancer. Still I let go and shake the floor. We all do.
I run with priests and sinners. We wear our pasts as emblems. We do not hide our blood, but pour it on the ground: an offering. We are not the easy faithful with unbeaten love for gods. We’re the returners who went too far from shore, fought with titans and saw them win. And here we are.
The houses of the rich. My friends are noble hearted: not those who grasp it tight, who duck in fear. They look out at the world and call it in. We meet your friends, we talk to strangers. Have a bed, have some wine, take my hand.
And make a move.