Hungry-eyed old men
sift through calisthenicking limbs,
ogling the young: boys, girls—
it doesn't matter.
Every body in unison, disjointedly,
strains its joints, lifts arms and legs
against the planet's gravity.
The bods relax; the guts and butts
touch down, drop anchor, and reunite with
The transient moisture of such labors
collects and drips,
gets ragwiped off,
to be laundered later, redissolved,
injected into sewer lines.
Outside, the crew resumes
their norm—both young and old
will eat their fill
of burgers and field greens and jamjam pie.
They'll ingest and micturate
their liquid essentials—
beers and teas and ionized glugs—
until the cycle begins anew...
evaporation and condensation
over and over in sealed alembics
of fleeting fitness and fissuring beauty;
the latter: ever-forever elusive.
Pump and heave, pedal and push,
bring those atoms that were consumed
back to the surface and sweat them all out