Member-only story
Brace Yourself
Something was taken from him
At the gym, there was a treadmill
where I ran away on a schedule,
a set of big goals in a big city,
packed trains and traffic lights,
glittering drinks in the hotel lobbies.
The same guy would run next to me.
We never spoke, but we’d race
together, both in skin-tight shirts,
him in gloves and a bench-pressing
back brace. When I’d lift the speed,
he would. When I’d lengthen my stride,
he would too, like how you’d match
a power pose in a glass door
status meeting, arms crossed
and then crossed again.
Years later, I ran into this man
at a cafeteria. He served me
a cheeseburger with everything,
looking out from blue eyes
and a grease-stained shirt.
Something was taken from him,
snuffed like a cigarette.
He took my money like he knew me.
Then he turned away,
like he knew something else.
© Trapper Markelz 2021
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