Ode to Track Suicides

At last we meet, I have long heard of you and delighted in the absent roll you held in my life. But alas, it was not meant to be that we stay apart.


We met just before sunrise this morning and as we got more familiar with each other, I felt a lump in my throat at the thought of our continuing on. A lump, not of emotional sentiment but of last night's dinner. I swallow hard and press on. I press on. Stretch. Press on. Stretch.


Still you linger in the morning. I now feel tears. No, not tears of joy but of pain and concern that "Track Suicides" may in fact be a literal term and I never see the end.


I finish our meeting not fully victorious but with satisfaction that I still held my previous night's dinner, only a very few tears were shed, and I at least have feeling in my upper body. The memory of our meeting will linger in my calves for days I am sure. Farewell my friend, I won't forget you.