DAY 65: Gym poetry

Hey there, jewelry girl with your hair all in place,
perfect make-up just freshly applied to your face.
I can smell your perfume from six treadmills away,
where you’re doing not so much a run… a sashay?
Have I missed something here?  Are there cameras around?
I’m so drenched from my run, I look like I’m half-drowned.
Oh, I see.  Girl, you’re only half-wearing that shirt.
While I came here to sweat, your ass came here to flirt.

Hey there, cranky old man with no headphones in sight,
staring at my machine display like it’s The Light.
I can smell your bad breath from six inches away,
and I’m suffocating as you chatter away.
Who are you talking to? Is there anyone there?
I’m about to scream.  Or strangle you with my hair.
Oh, I see.  You’re a nosy invader of space,
and you need to get ALL OF THAT out of my face.

Hey there, super-fit girl with your flawless body,
walking in like you totally know you’re a hottie.
I can smell your success from sixty pounds away,
and I can’t wait to look just like you do some day.
When all’s said and done, are you just the size I’d be?
Why must you do your cardio right beside me?
Oh, I see.  You know you have got this thing on lock.
Being healthy and fit like you are, that must rock.

Hey there, work in progress with your face dripping wet,
trying so hard to run, but you can’t move fast yet.
I can smell your hard work from just six weeks ahead,
and I’ve been where you are:  huffing, puffing, face red.
You’ve got work to do, friend, and I know I do, too.
It sounds crazy, but I can see myself in you.
What I see is that you’re gonna blow them away.
You can do this.  You’ll win.  There’s nothing more to say.

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