Podium Hopes

Para mutual relay race
Often ends on twisted ankles
Mississippi River finish

Photo op, fine way to end this –
Sore loser, I am, always
Have been, since about the age of ten


Used a donkey running partner –
Used a tactic seen by many
Of sprinting naked
To help you chase me

Kept a journal, miles upon miles
Then my donkey, I had to bury.


Unilateral biopsy
Of my heart shows a scarcity of
Patience, a penchant for hard love & existence
Of six,

Rather than four valves –
Pushing away the men – running them off
Like a marathoning Kenyan.


I run into tape again again
Appearing first, but sensing last
My place for a medal on the podium

As skill for
Running into walls head first
Bypass my expectations
And hope, hissing like cats; the
Dogged falling down again

On normal oil asphalt: my final
black tar bed.


Former sinecure apprentice: now,
Just a flat-faced,
Loser guard.

Photo Credit: Joey Z1 Flickr via Compfight cc

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