Let us go then, you and I
When the morning is bleeding out against the sky
Like a face planted hard against the pavement.
Let us go through certain crowded streets
Join the myriad shuffling feet
After sleepless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And Italian restaurants serving mounds of pasta shells
Streets that go nowhere in particular
But at least are closed to the vehicular
That lead you to an overwhelming question:
Oh do not ask the point
Let us go and rock the joint.
***
In the corrals the women come and go
Talking about Greta Waitz and Alison Roe.
***
I should have been a pair of ragged sneakers
Shuffling through a closet full of tee-shirts.
***
As I talk I begin to slobber
As I move I’m at best a jogger.
***
I grow old I grow old
My trousers feel like they hold a load.
***
Is it the perfume from my mess
That confirms I have regressed?
***
In the corrals the women come and go
Talking about Greta Waitz and Alison Roe.
***
I have measured out my life in crushable Dixie cups.
We linger by the water stations far too long
Slap too many hands of the ebullient throng
As we dodge and dance our way towards the victor’s crown
‘Till faster runners pass us and we frown.