Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Walking the Track

(Poetry in the category of Be Where You Are)

We come for different reasons
Working the same goal.

We form two camps:
One stands on a machine

And watches walkers wondering,
Don’t they get bored going in circles?

The other walks the track; marks
Each lap with a glance through glass

At the blur of arms and legs 
Surrounding stationery heads, 

Wondering, don’t they get bored
Standing in one place?

I prefer to walk the track to see
The sights, which change

With every rotation: First lap
Of the first mile I pass the boys

And men playing pickup on Court D.
All net, and even I cheer the shot.

The song changes and I
Pick up my pace: What’s

Wrong with being confidant?
Second lap of the first mile.

The fit fitness trainer pushes
Chubby Child harder: lunge, lunge!

I pass the man with the cane
And the ladies who come more

For the company than the workout.
Their laughter moves faster than their legs.

Last lap of the last mile. The fitness trainer
Nods as I pass. He holds kettle bells easily

In each hand, as if they gave no
Challenge to strong arms. 

Straight shoulders, I lengthen my stride,
My ponytail a metronome for my pace.