— for Leenie Moore
We run so fast these letters should be slanted, fastest at dusk when our breaths burn hot coals, sweat soaking our T-shirts, sneakers slapping pavement as we huff and puff and blow ourselves forward, kids racing, fists tight, arms pumping, phew, phew, bodies shooting off sparks, God loves us, life is good, we’ll live forever, sweat beading at hairlines, sweat blurring the last smudges of day, of play, of imaginary bases and end zones and finish lines dusting beneath the whap-whap and the whap-whap-whap, even the moon coming out to have a look, glowing its O of surprise.
