At the Gym
Bodies move like escalators,
ellipticals glide like synchronized swimmers. 28:32.
Up down, up down, left right, left right.
How does the guy in the blue
sweatshirt withstand this sauna? Watch
as he circles around us to the tock-tick
of a counter-clockwise Tuesday. Listen
to the circadian rhythm
of bodies in consonance, bodies in cadence.
Hear the treadmill wheek
like a guinea pig pining to be fed
by sweat and Gatorade: the salad bar
of missed opportunity. Thighs burn
like the roof of the mouth that couldn’t wait.
Does the girl in pink know that
leaning on the machine is giving power
to the machine? Increase incline. Resist
thighs like overcooked noodles.
Weights chatter like bowling pins.
It’s the start of spring
intramurals. Watch from our balcony
as the red and blue is volleyed.
17:31. Hear the spritz of antiseptic
applied to the machine’s wounds
with a soiled cloth. Cubbies full:
squeaky shoes, warm pants, keys. Hear
the bowling pins chatter.
What if animals went to the gym?
Wonder this as six screens
display the same news, the same
surgeon, the same team. Does anyone
else get creeped out
by the dude standing, staring
behind the desk? Resolve problems like adults.
Imagine an elephant elevated on
Read the sign: Monday, clockwise.
Talk in circles, observe
the showcase below. A mix of
wannabes and will-never-bes
swarm the court. Loop them.
Bodies in constant motion, brains
with their own form
of recreation. Think of words to say.
Pretend. See the girl in cut-off.
Read the sign.