Marathon Man

Johnny ran.
That was his problem.

He was what the staff called a runner
logical since he ran whenever he could

one minute they thought they had him three ways to Sunday tied to the bedpost with someone else's soiled sheets;

then they'd no sooner turn around and he'd be up to his Harry Houdini routine all over again.

Even the aides admitted he was pretty smart for being a retard;
all the rest of them would sit and rock.

But not Johnny,
he'd jump up dart this way and that.

then the next thing you know he'd find an open door or leap through a window

and he'd be clocking the mile on the institution's main drag at three-point-ninety-two like the long distant runner he longed to be.

They tried vinegar spray, four-point restraints, even leaden shoes.

Nothing slowed his free stride until they placed electrodes on his hide and shocked him.

Shocked him.

Now he's on the back ward
rocking to and fro.

To and fro.

To and fro...