The Racer

qualification
precise failure to fail
engineered mediocrity
round, round,
round,
round, round,
It used to be:
     blades of grass between my toes
     oboe reeds, buzzing in the wind
     pores open, itching
     cold earth in my nails
     salt in the rings round my neck
days when I just was
I wasn’t fooling anybody
Everyone is watching this race.
“No one has a bad thing to say about you!”
I’m winning.
no one is watching
my race
I wish they could watch my race
Oh well

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