Three About Cross-Training

I climb the stairs
I will not fall
I do not stop
I climb them all

Did I mention that I hate stairs?


Everything is square
A metal spinal column
My steps are clanging


At the top of the building,
Wouldn’t it be faster
Just to jump in the center
Shoot like a rocket
All the way to the bottom?
Then, I could float to N’Orleans
Ride the air currents
Across the fields, the cities
Find myself a nightclub
And slip between the smoky lips
Of some beautiful, shining jazz singer
And really feel the music
I could play there, in the city
Waiting while you all
Finish your ass-grinding work
When you finally arrive
I could be hovering over your drink
Sipping the vapor from the bubbles
Licking the ice cubes
With my misty tongue