Sometimes I still feel like
that slow girl out on the redgra
being made to run pointless laps,
slogging away as best I could
while all the time wishing
I was built like the others,
the willowy girls who zipped by me,
the boys with the kind of endurance
it was never my destiny to possess,
but I kept going in fits and starts,
run-walk-run-walk-
Why aren’t they wheezing?
Why don’t they sweat like I do?
Swallowing the bitter embarrassment
of being lapped by…
