Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Loser




I ache all over
A marathon man
Worn out by foolish gesture
My feet pounding the pavement
Of an always lonely street
I never wanted to walk on
Adrenalin numbing my brain
But not the pain
Each step a jab
I suspect I deserve
My pace full of age and despair
Time running out
Miles before the finish line
Me, knowing I will not
Reach it before the crowds
Have gone and
The cheering expired,
That last flat flap
Of white sneakers
Coming in
last

email to Al Sullivan

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