Perhaps you’ve heard of it.

A game of chasing the bouncing ball,

Only your chained feet can go slow or

As fast as your tethered limb can carry

Another body, vying for leadership,

Sometimes taut, sometimes limp,

Submitting to your pace, if necessary,

Seeking the elusive finish line

If only they find the rhythm, even

For a step or an oddish two down the aisle,

Up the avenue, across the street, a dead end

Where the banner reads: Till broken ankles

We part.