the runner

never underestimate the un-athletic.

the sitter looked down at their body

slumped & squished in the crevice of the lay-z-boy---

they thought to themselves that they hadn’t always looked

this way,

that being a detriment---

and in that,

they remembered how they looked when they were younger &

they slobbered all over themselves with

drooling self-loathing grief,

for the individual that is now long dead &

gone---

they closed their eyes and tapped their little ruby red

sock toes together

and whisked themselves away until morning.

 

drinking a tall glass of h20,

the once-sitter now got up from the chair in which they fell

asleep,

subsequently going outside

albeit in the same clothes as before,

and began strolling the neighborhood,

a newly born

walker.

 

walking exerted the body---

the once-sitter now a walker sensed that the

walking was bringing them to a new point of

exhaustion,

and they felt the need to abort

the whole new awakening,

as quickly as it had arrived.

 

they turned about-face,

and began to make their way back home,

already sick of walking,

wanting more so to be back in the chair from

which they started,

wanting more than ever to be able to drift off into sweet

oblivion.

 

on the way back,

the ex-walker gets passed by a runner who almost bumped into them---

the runner, with their high-cut shorts,

as if it was still the 1970’s,

slams their feet down in a puddle that had been

left by the heavy rain the night before.

 

the rainwater now blended with motor oil,

cigarette butts, old chewing gum,

dead bugs & the fresh urine that had just dribbled down the hill along the side of

the sidewalk,

all splashes up in one clean swoop,

drenching the

ex-walker’s sweatpants bottoms,

and now the ex-walker is a bit peeved.

 

in a move that no one on the street could possibly have predicted,

out of a combination of sheer anger &

adrenaline,

the ex-walker who was going back home to sit their life

away,

has gained a new strength for the moment,

one which needs to be satisfied---

the ex-walker,

now

sprinter,

hurls themselves forward

running faster than they ever have in years,

in the attempt to catch the 1970’s runner who passed them.

 

with spectators on both sides of the street gathering,

they watch the out-of-shape individual

chase the runner in question,

finally catching up with them,

and with a thrust of force that even the ex-walker-now-angry-sprinter

didn’t even know they had in them,

both hands on the back of the 1970’s runner---

these hands push the runner out and off their step.

 

the runner goes flying down the hill,

snapping their ankle and screaming in pain.

 

the ex-walker-now-sprinter stops running,

hands on knees to catch their breath,

then goes back the way that they came to continue sitting at home,

drifting away into

oblivion.