jogging

No more resolve, just the push of habit;

no more claim to self-discipline,

just falling into sneakers nightly;

and ever so blindly, years

into decades, the route got

shorter, the circle tighter,

twenty-two blocks,

to fifteen, to twelve,

then fewer, flatter,

to circles ever-

tightening,

till one day bam! he ran

into himself, and flat as jar lids,

he picked himselves up, and vowed

then and there to send one self to take up kayaking

instead, the other to crank boxes that pop up hidden jacks.