twas the night before bus ride
and all thru the motel
not a runner was sleeping
the backpacks they filled up with exquisite care
in hopes that the things they need all would be there.
the runners were tossing restless in their beds
while visions of slim jims danced in their heads.
and jan in the meatwagon and i in my car.
were hoping the quitters would not be too far.