Walk. A poem.

I walk for me
I walk the lonely way
Up and down, crisply dried and crunchy
Around I go, wearing tracks in the carpet
Circuits in the yard are circuits in my mind
Endless surges of high definition creativity
Fingers make words in motion on my cell
My babies gestated, now given birth
Sweat mixing with pollen and grass seed
Each victory lap whips me lean
Until I’m spent, punished, exhausted
No need for a safe word
Feels good

 

I didn’t walk after my workout today. But I thought I’d write a poem about it, anyway.

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