Quiz & Quill

one day, i will run down the street naked. 
i will bare myself to the sun and the street signs, 
show everything off to the fat clouds and potholes, 
as free as a child. 
when october looms like a heavy door 
i will shelter in place behind sweaters and curtains 
but i am hot-blooded and tired of hiding. 
i will give the people something to stare at as i run, 
i’ll sprint past the old storm cellar and what used to be the market 
and i will remember a girl who was afraid to walk. 
i’ll get in my car and leave, 
let my legs stick to the leather seats and go ninety on the highway 
where i’m free to be a moving target. 
i’ll be naked and thrilled and insane, 
i’ll be like my father, stop taking my lithium and start stealing 
yard signs. 
i’ll run around scaring people and i’ll be happy about it 
because i have nothing to fear. 
i will start showing off my stretchmarks to strangers, 
the kind who delight in the patterns of sunlight on water, 
and i’ll give a speech on the scars on my shins. 
i’ll give a full history of my body– 
let everyone examine the dip of my waist with a magnifying glass and poke 
at the birthmark on the back of my shoulder. 
i will project my memories of who has looked at what, who has shouted 
as i walked alongside the same roads i run on now.
and i will be proud and remember the day i learned to walk. 
i will pick gravel out of the soles of my feet and pull leaves from my hair 
and i will cheer on the changing of the seasons 
as i bask in the yellow glow of streetlights.