three more times
till this name sticks to your tongue
like stale morning breath.
Drag your feet through pleasantries
for a night, an evening.
Don’t waste your eyes on my body
till you think I’m worth
a few minutes of your precious time.
Speak like I’m an opportunity,
like there’s room for me
to run around your head.
Though my feet have been blistered,
I’ve kept them taped up for a while.
You call me into the game, the marathon.
Eyes alight, blowing into the whistle,
aiming a pistol up at the sky.
You’ll expect me to leap
but I am too tired