Beside the curb sits an exercise machine
former font of hope, and slimmer torso dreams.
Not yet rusted or rotten,
Simply abandoned, and soon forgotten.
Was it just a year ago
this hulk of plastic and metal–
built to be pushed to and fro–
seemed a soft touch to determined mettle?
But it proved too much,
and has won the battle.
There was food and drink and such
to consume, its owners still look like cattle.
My guess is there will be no takers;
The garbage men hoist it from the sidewalk
and deride the folks inside as fakers,
secure behind their padlock.
Once the thing’s been hauled away
They’ll think it’s fine and great.
Out of sight and mind until they say
“I need to lose some weight.”