It’s time to go. Wait. Hold your breath. Eyes down.
For the next 3-minute windowless ride.
The line is getting shorter
The glitter is getting dimmer
The bowl of soup is getting colder.
First come first serve guaranteed. Soup at the front line not guaranteed.
It’s time to wander around Whole Foods again.
The answers have become fast, reachable. Trader Joe’s has many of those.
You must know your worth
and sell it to the highest bidder.
My lair is full of teeth
and pillows decked out in dollar-99 jewelries.
In Ameri-go-round I need to think seconds before saying good/bad.
Fill in the blanks to the best of your ability.
Love is not a merry-go-round that you can get on for 30 minutes a day.
Sometimes in Ameri-go-round, love is an easier chase
than running on the treadmill for 30 minutes.
You can get very far, on a treadmill, without a view.
But they say you can do anything for 10 seconds.
My estate is balding, my teeth thinning, my view tired of feigning.
Am I slowly turning into a fossil of a number?
That’s not my bones pushing and shoving. Not yet
That’s the treadmill breaking.