Peter Joseph Gloviczki

I stole your ankles the week before gas prices surged.
Then I bartered them for this pair of lungs. It was Bull.
(Bless the allure of their protective potential) But now,
you'll track me down. And when the morning finds you
you won't even blink. You'll just offer hair to a sprinter.
I'll need every breath here when you find me and I run.