Oblique stories unfold before your eyes:
the stranger as mirror image
insinuating himself/herself between the lines.
You will repeat this over and over,
and log 1000 miles before the call to begin.
You google unintentional silence
stopping briefly to explore the tributaries of exhaustion,
leaving you floundering. Shake it off.
There's no time now for dead air.
Perhaps your internal derailleur
lacks a granny gear for higher elevations,
the air thin with exhilaration, echoing those moments
when runners spirit to the finish line.
 |
| 1908 Olympic Marathon (National Geographic) |