Treading

Rejection eats you like the earth eats a corpse,
the flesh of a possum that is rotting
on the lawn over which students are treading.

***

I recognized him by the smell of decay
that he was dragging with him,
as if he hadn’t showered in over a week,
while maintaining a regular schedule of pull-ups and arm bars,
lifting once, twice, three times…four five six, switch
again, once twice three times…four five six.

I stared at him from my treadmill,
running an average 3.2 miles in a forty minute time span.
It was like I was going towards him,
running against the top of the Velcro layer that was forcing me back,
just like a horizontal door to his apartment, that I pound against
is keeping me from him after he decided
that I was too much work.

I increased my speed from  5 to 6,
daring myself to catch up to him as he pulled his solid build up,
his face was distorted, pinched together,
like he was working hard.

I thought it was too much work.

He always looked gallant behind the glass
separating the cardio station from the weights he lifted.
Sweat spilled from his pores,
and I found myself unable to stop my pace,
which would bring me to him.
But as he walked through the doorway,
the pungent smell returned.
He caught my glance.

As I thought, it was too much work…
He, was too much work…

I left him, clawing at me like the undead,
trying to call me back in over and over again.
I let the treadmill pull me from him,
refusing to be eaten by his large mass
of sweat and dead possums.