These days I think about freedom, what it means
to haunt a space, to take another, to let out a gasp
without worrying about how long it will take
for it to be retrieved from you
get back onto the wagon of running
for the name of more space, isn't that freedom-
a space, indented out of daily lives, out of a place
not belonging or asking for anything begged differently
in other coins, on laps, in long intermittent train rides
where one street becomes the next one in the line of motion
is freedom a room of one's own perfume
a scent that greets you when you open the door?
isn't it, like a lot of concepts,
the single point between seeing and becoming?