Every night at 7,

Mondays through Thursdays,

To purge and correct my body

I go to Church


A neon-lit venue

Filled with half-clothed

Gyrating limbs.

Pumping iron

Jumping rope

Pounding treadmill

A rainbow of Adidas, Nike, First Ascent


Worshipful gazes

Furtive glances

As eyes feast on the belusted sight of

Lean, toned flesh

Or built, powerful torso.


Everyone obeying the lights and the beeps

For their 30 seconds of allocated machine time.

No one daring to upset

The eternal rules of the super circuit.




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