THE FUTURE HAS NOT YET ARRIVED

It takes an ultramarathon runner,
running down the hills and dales,
climbing up to mountain tops and
down to the desert of Death Valley,
the time to know when the future
arrives—there is no fear of death.
It is of no matter that bloody birds
fly out of dicks or the unendurable
pain of shin splits—just no boredom
basking in the camaraderie of men—
brothers he may have never had
bond like fellow riflemen, bravely
confronting death on every mile.