Dear 26.2-Mile Run
by Sam Pierstorff, #NinjaPoet
I have been drinking a lot lately,
slugging shots of honey whiskey,
watching you all night leaning
over the bar, legs so long an airplane
could land on your hamstrings.
I want you more than you want me.
We both know that. But still you flirt
with your miles of experience, your wide open
roads that men can’t stop chasing.
All over your body, they have travelled—
slow and gentle, careful not to hurt
themselves along your windy paths.
Others pound your pavement
like machine gun fire, stomp,
stomping along, thinking only
of their own time, their own
personal best.
They never look down, never admire
the mature road you’ve become, your dark,
poreless skin, your edges of soft grass
and golden wheat fields.
I am sorry that I have been with your friends—
5Ks, half-marathons, mud runs that left me
feeling so dirty I’ve had to hose myself off
at a gas station, but it’s always been you
that I want so badly.
I think near daily about it, what it will take
to get me out there—next to you, on top of you,
gliding along every curve, letting you
wear me down, exhaust me
until I am breathless
on my knees, praying
that you will let me
finish.
