The Chinese Sprinter

He lies on the ground, fallen
like a house collapsed by a great quake,
whose door was used for his makeshift bed,
after clearing debris off him.

The tremor sprinted past him,
as his legs failed to deliver more,
stumbled over the shaking earth
and the tumbling concrete.

His friend later found him
among the rows of the dead,
found him curled,
as if running away still-

with white rubber shoes,
jogging suit in red and blue,
and a Chinese textbook over his face.