Wherever I go, he goes –
he is always with me.

Hot air on the back of my neck,
hair standing on edge from the proximity,
so close that I can taste his sweat.

He is grabbing my ankles,
and pawing my thighs,
and tugging my hair.
I have had enough.

Three blocks ahead leads to a wooded path:
follow it across the stream. Reach a steep hill,
flattop, and a drop off on the far side.

Outrun him. My feet pound pavement.
Outthink him. I fake left but turn right.
Pants soggy from the stream,
leaves in my hair from low branches,
faint of breath, I have reached the cliff.

Climb. Clawing at the ground,
desperately groping for a final handful
of dirt to reach the ledge.

Jump.
Finish this.
Leave.

On the edge of the cliff, I turn,
finally able to face the stalker
with an escape so immediate.

Look. No one.
It has only ever been me
and my shadow.