There
are dogs on his tail
They
are old and failing
But
always
There
He
need not run at
Full
speed
But
must keep
Moving
They
never gain ground
But
are within
Earshot
Growling
Teeth
clear with
Spit
and blood
He
must keep moving
They
are old and failing
But
still
There
And
They
run him through town and
City
Across
country road and dust track
Always
the same
There
is no sleep
No
rest
But
there are
Dreams
His
great idea is this -
To
stay that little bit faster
Be
not quite as old
Fail
just a little less
But
that’s not really living
Is
it.