He has no arm or leg,

one eye and one ear

but sheer will, will

rule the day.

Splintered and busted,

But his fires still burn,

ready for the paralympic games.

Patched together,

his cojones are loaded

with a texture of titanium.

He thrusts his wheelchair

in the back of a station wagon.

People stare at him and look away.

You don’t have to genuflect

and pray for him. Save your pity

and marble gravestones

for somebody else.

He skips over scorpions,

rattlesnakes, poison amanitas,

and climbs the tallest mountains,

one leg and one arm at a time,

(a steeplechase smile at the pinnacle).

He will never give up

and never give in,

he’ll go like the wind

and win, win, win.

Stay out of his way.

He thrives on skidding across thin ice

that cracks, but never breaks.

For him, eternity is still

a long way off.