The Need by P.C. Scheponik

I see the runners every morning jogging faithfully down Coastal
Highway: women with their sports bras and jaunty pony tails wagging
side to side and men in their muscle tees or shirtless, wearing Armor-
all shorts. All of them in their Nikes “just doing it” against the
concrete walk, the sweat glistening off their bodies bathed in sun and
wind from the run. And then there are the bikers sporting headgear
and spandex, pumping their grueling spin of wheels— vulcanized
rubber meeting the road. I, too, am one of them, but not one who runs,
not one who rides along Coastal Highway making strides in strength
and confidence. I am one who opens the journal; the blank pages
spread like wings. I am one who flies across the lines letting the tip of
my pen skim the waves of thought the way the gulls and ospreys
search for the streaks of tails, the glint of fins of those silver-bellied
dreams that swim just under the surface, the way the ideas glide
beneath the edges of consciousness to be plucked from possibility that
is suddenly turned real—a metaphor, a simile. I’m telling you, I can
make a meal of a poem, the hunger in me so strong I can feel its need
to break out and run free with all the other fitness buffs I see every
morning chasing destiny that stretches before them like Coastal
Highway.



P.C. Scheponik is retired. He is a lifelong poet who lives by the sea with his wife, Shirley, the love of his life and his shizon, Bella. He has published four collections of poetry and has been published in numerous journals.