Specifically the rain on Palmer Road,
And every stride from there to Enders Farm,
Compels my sloshing Nike’s and their load
Like volunteers on hearing their alarm.
I see their trucks parked backwards in their drives
And wonder if those seconds ever failed.
I pass a hundred houses filled with lives
Of breath and blood and dreams left un-assailed.
I can’t imagine fire in this rain,
Except the burning muscles in my thighs.
And so my thoughts retreat to petty pain
As rain-diluted-sweat-drops fill my eyes.
At F-M High I push my mired pace
Specifically toward next year’s Green Lakes race.