jimachines

The race
is to get to
the machines so I can run to nowhere
as fast
as
I want.
Or as slow.
6 p.m.:
when
everyone
arrives. They claim their spots.
In front of
a TV, of course.
And they
go nowhere,
fast.
Or, sometimes,
slowly.
But while watching
Oprah
or Ellen
or Fox News.
It takes the
loneliness
out of
long-distance
running,
such as it is,
with no
real
distance covered. No rain. No wind.
No sense,
really.
But everyone
does it –
runs, walks,
bikes, ellipts,
without missing
a beat,
or a commercial. Not so slender. Not so toned.
Not so conditioned.
But
moving.
Headed nowhere.
But fast.
Or, slow,
as the case might be.