Legs That Go On Forever

She’s got legs that go on forever, I heard him tell his friend.

I pictured those legs, and I wished them my own.

Legs that would just keep marching through stubble-sharp mornings, and dance their way non-stop through lotion-smooth nights. Thighs that could crack walnuts for a century and still be around to climb every last mountain. Legs that go on forever. Sprinting faster than the forty-denier haze of the past and outrunning the mortality of denim. Legs that would only lose their ankles in a black hole and could hup-a-handstand beanstalk up to heaven.

Legs that go on forever.

I pictured those legs, and I wished them my own.