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Second Wind – a poem

by Frank on April 15th, 2018

Visiting home Thanksgiving from far away
I rose early to get in a five-mile jog before the feast.
I had started out fast under a cobbled gray overcast,
Threading down the weedy shoulder
Of the road I used to hitchhike skipping school,
Back when my pantheon of heroes included
Sonny Berger of the Hell’s Angels,
Padding now past a field thick with saplings,
Once a corn lot where I’d shot a hen pheasant to my uncle’s dismay,
Past Brasser’s asphalt-shingled little general store, windows long dark,
Where older brothers could be guilt-tripped into buying us beer,
Past an old house where lived a fat, chess-playing friend
I’d left to his friendless fate,
And on I push,
Forgive, forgive,
Quads on fire but okay with pain,
In touch with deeper ancestors,
I run on ape fumes.

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