I am not allowed to take pictures when I go running. Running is for the deliberate reintroduction of my heart to my lungs, slowly, painfully slowly, and stopping or slowing is not allowed. But I can't help but see, frame things up in my head, and a daylight run reveals so many different things. On this corner the brilliant blue sky is split with a black church steeple, the steeple itself split by the intensely rusting access hatch, a streaked orange and vermilion square. Here the heiroglyphics of chicken bones tells a story of distracted distain. Here a white styrofoam takeout box is splayed open and stomped flat, like a pair of discarded wings. I have gone too fast again, too happy to have an unbridled desire, so now I must run farther, run down this long ugly street, kicking through the shattered glass of Saturday night before the final turn towards home.