“That’s what I mean,

I don’t understand how we lost,

with all our defense and passion-”

“Sometimes it’s not in our control

who wins and loses.

The other team got lucky,” her friend replied.

They passed the thick and thin lines

of the sidewalk and

she ran her hand along

a chain linked fence as her friend

tied the laces of her running shoes.

“Either way, we have to keep going,” her friend said.

So their legs shook muscle free

and tightened it again with each stride.

The swish of crinkly shorts rubbed

together and the building pant of their breathing

continued steadily.

Peace: lungs expanding, muscles clamoring,

shoes digging on the pavement, birds squeaking overhead,

chain link fences disappearing-

She thought of Wordsworth and Coleridge,

of sublimity, her euphoric connection to

nature, to herself, to muscles and air and pavement-

Empowerment: building yourself,

your mind and muscles, with each leap as

city fades

away-

And then

a slowing car

a rolled down window and

a voice

that shatters: “Damn

ladies! What’re you running from?

Aw, come on over here and say hi!

Woo look at you run,

baby.”

So they were silenced

and ran head

down past reappearing

weeds in the sidewalk cracks.

Systemic chain linked fences and

buildings suffocated flower beds-

where can she hide the clamor or her muscles

that she once so ardently loved-

they would drive away.

All of them.

She wished her shorts were longer and her shirt baggier

because then maybe they would have kept driving,

all of them.

But more than anything she wished

she had known

what to say

or do to keep her power and

her head high.

“The other team got lucky,”

her friend said, again.

So they kept running.