fitness plan for a poet

i realized my evening workouts

have been getting longer and longer

and thus

my physique more like slate and stone

my vertical has increased three inches

my forearms to biceps to shoulders

a range of moving mountains

my hands shredded and callused

from ripping (up to) four hundred

twenty five pounds from the earth

and i resemble a lowercase deity

with thinning hair and a joyful smile

who absently sings and dances along

when Taylor plays over the speakers

because i dread returning

to an empty apartment and the

empty sound of just my keys

on the counter and whispering

to myself it’s ok it’s gonna get


(she’s the reason i can answer that question)

is it weird that i think things like

the purpose of life is a misnomer.
it should be plural, because
the purposes of life are
to live, not just be alive
to make life more livable
for as many people as possible.

. . . that’s it, that’s the list.

between sets of lat pull-downs?

and before you judge me for using
cables, i’d already finished my
free-weights and was at that point
working on sculpting and enjoying
the precision of the movement with
cables where i can feel the tension in
ever muscle fiber when i’m really paying
attention and i smile for no reason and
smack my gum when i’ve remembered
to tuck two pieces in my pocket on my way
out of the door?