As streets become brotherly love, my runs are fueled by self-talk, an inner voice, and my passion for wordplay up hilltops. I chose the hottest hour of the day in Portland to run the steepest hill in my neighborhood. It was tough. But that’s why I did it.

(Photo: Dissolution. Made with PicsArt by @keronixraze)

Thursday, August 12, 2021

Meet the unmarked beast.

Hidden retreat.

Best kept secret.

His thing is to breathe.

Wreak havoc through streets.

Running like sheesh.

It’s hot out—how bold.

He even did it when cold.

You wouldn’t know cuz’ he’s slow.

But running, he’s fast.

Einstein through math.

Everlasting police car,

Cop and a half.

Devin Butler you spazz.

You wouldn’t know he’s a star.

God hides him like mom’s candy bars.

His sirens don’t sound.

Gawking—prowl.

-Budd

Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes because no one can 'read' him. And it's a great way to hide public thoughts...

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