Sprinting After Heidegger

After a fast

run—panting,
latent

sweat beading,

euphoria

waxing and
quickening waves of nausea
that sweep 

down
from secret
stomach's pit to far-away
little quaking ankles—I realize,

that I've
never really felt

like giving-

in;

or like getting
high—

I've only
felt

like
being both.