MR. TREADMILL

I had an opportunity to meet
Mr. Treadmill
who’s been hanging out
at my sister’s house
for quite awhile.

 

He’s become
a bit outclassed these days
when digital treadmill-speak
is in many languages.

 

This one only spoke English
and he said to me:
“If you hop on for half an hour
I’ll tell you a thing or two
that might interest you
even though my heart monitor
doesn’t keep score any more”.

 

So I gave up walking on the beach
which is hardly exercise
especially if one gathers shells
and his feet sink into the sand
leaving footprints
for the tide to wash away.

 

I hopped on, and sure enough,
my stride was being measured.
What intrigued me most
was how many calories I burned
in thirty minutes: seventy-five
.

All this before I even had
a glass of orange juice!

 

My distance came in at
about a mile and a half —
a little disappointing, but likely
more accurate than my guessing
when I move amidst palm trees
and little man-made lakes
and over wooden bridges.

 

Mr. Treadmill challenged me
to increase my speed
and even offered me
some hills to climb — but I declined
preferring to take on a little rhyme.
and at another time.
————————–

And now the time has come
to exercise my fingertips
and pick my brain
and share with you some intimacies
believing you’ll consider me
a little bit crazy .

But my insanity is mild
as I attempt to write
a little poetry.

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