You know those
long days—
not the easy fleeting ones
that drift by more smoothly
than swift pencil dashes
marking
the path of a waxy crayon butterfly—

Not even the ones that chug
slowly
along the creaking moaning train tracks
burnt red with gravel and rust—

No––
They are the ones
you have wrap tightly with
heavy chains
sizzling from lying out in the grueling sun
to drag them along
yourself—
the hard metal digging divots
into your back
as you
P
U
S
H
onward
teeth clenched
sweat oozing from underneath your hair

but still
you
stake
your tiny
inconsequential
dusty sneaker
into the
ground
again
and
PULL

HARDER