Ode to Jon Gill

Run for the hills
One thousand five hundred meters
Jon Gill making a beeline
Between Santiam and race leader
Tracktown Pizza robbery
Collecting Olympic trinkets
Straight to Smoke River Solitaire
I can make it if I can think it
While I breathe I hope
On pace to meet the maker
A dollar fifty a day
For seven hours of hard labor
Cheap shoes and blue socks
The clock’s ticking on Athens
Making the days count
Just hoping that it will happen
They want to see me fail
Can’t stand my Cool Hand Luke defiance
I tell ‘em “dum spiro spero”
Speaking the language of science
This well-born werewolf
Has got what it takes
Telecommunicating triumph
And raising the stakes
But I’d rather fall first
Then climb my way to the top
Than be standing there sheepishly
Waiting for the flag to drop