i saw him again


















(sorry, obscure reference - change him to her)

sitting on a bench outside an office building
at aproximately 10:50 am

of late ive been trying to rekindle
my love-hate relationship
with "exercise"

nee "participaction" [i got bronze
...not bad for a guy that runs like a pregnant camel]
todays vernacular coins it as "cardio"

regardless...
whats in a name?
that which we call exercise
by any other name would smell as sweat
romeo romeo thou doffst douse more perfume

i digressith

the plan is:
go to the gym (and covetly stare at chicks)
and when i work lunch
rather than take the rocket
...walk [you lazy phoque] (thats french for seal)
takes me about 45 minutes as opposed to 20
nbw La-Z-Boy

which brings me back to him
right where i duck into the underground path
i see him - sitting on his bench
our eyes meet
we are both red faced sweaty and overweight
except one of us is smoking a cigar
and the other just walked 4 kilometres

good for me
pat pat
anyhoo

i usually sit in the foodcourt for 5 or 10 minutes
to chill and lose my sweat
but some doughhead put on the heat
so i go stand outside

having no choice but to hear the drone of countless car horns
i was reminded of the weekend well spent on lake huron
"those arent cars!! those are waves crashing on the beach!!"

on the eve of our second fire (sans marshmallows)
i opined to my good friend jiff
rural - im with oliver douglas ..."the chores"












urban - im with lisa douglas GRRRRROWLLL ..."the stores"


















suburban - im ...not so much


















unless of course im rob petrie
sleeping [WW] in the twin bed beside laura petrie GRRRRROWLLL

the cool thing about elucidating ones innermost
thoughts to ones good buddy whilst sitting
by a crackling fire in Gods country






















...is that it doesnt have to mean shit cuz ones audience
is either off taking a piss or chopping wood

bern shares
bv)