Let the games begin...

RUN, RUN
faster.
So gravel hits your calves,
splatters patterns on your jeans,
whips strands into your mouth,
making tunes with the breeze.
Cold wind crashes against skin,
fresh waves beat on sand-crusted Converse,
an electric web spreads through your legs,
throbbing with each concrete step.
You turn into thin slices of smoked salmon
fluttering gently against rocks,
tightly embracing slippery moss
shredded,
fighting.
Rowing against folds of water
that tuck and spin underneath,
loop around each other,
like hesitant lovers sliding in and out
thrashing violently against foaming rocks,
their next step out of bounds.
Hearts squeezed like oranges
at the pool deck of Mandolin Bay.
Starched white uniforms
get ready for the morning rush,
crush shards of mimosa glasses,
looking up at an indifferent sky
turning hues of tequila sunrise
that presides over
triathlons, sprints and marathons
RUN, RUN
faster.