THE SADDEST
TREADMILL THERE IS
Your caramelized pajamas go well with lunch, and
my dog sees right through to your soul. Am I your
only game in town? Have I already grown too tough.
Here, by the way-station we call counter-top stain,
the kitchen apparatus has gone mad : this refrigerator
sounds like a whippoorwill, and I'm sure the pilot-lights
are out again. Is it just me who can smell the unburned
gas? How does one ever know the difference, anyway,
between a friend for life and a lover just met? Not me,
I will safely say. We lumber for happy things, while
trudging away on the saddest treadmill there is.
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