Page 110
Marathon
Sometimes the world is, you know, okay.
Tonight I let my son-in-law drive us home
and I got to watch the river at its stillest,
evening sky just strong enough to hold up
the lightest of clouds and all the parts
hovering soft and still, the exact sky and water
when you know winter has finally left and
even though there will be more cold, it
will be the cold of summer. Every once
in a while you have those nights.
One time I ran a marathon. It seemed like
the only thing to do at the time. The world was
harsh then and I was caving in. The guy who won
the race worked as a cook somewhere; he
must have put up with customers bitching
about their runny eggs and then he’d take off
running and run until he had to go back
for his next shift.
The point is I was working nights in a
grocery store then, getting a few hours of sleep
then running as far as I could away from
my life until I too had to come back for my
next shift. Then this cook shows up, wins a
marathon, and becomes a hero for all of us
who thought we had no business running
races anyway, but here he is in the winner’s
circle, collecting his trophy, lacing his shoes up
for the breakfast crowd tomorrow.