Running on a treadmill
standing stock-still
I tell myself I am safe
from judgement, as though my slow progress
would offend, my stretched Lycra
would distress
I tell myself I am safe
from runner's knee, and muscle pulls
concrete is too hard to fall
one trip to make me crawl
I tell myself it is easy
drinks at hand, music wired
as though carrying what I need and desire
is too heavy
I tell myself it is easy
course predestined, speed anticipated
No sudden turns, dogs, streets gated
Even the seasons don't change
I don't change
I get nowhere.
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