One of those days of minimal movement,
Allowing most of the alterations to carry on
With the body that barely can drag itself
On crutches between the bed and the desk.
Read the news recently? To be sedentary
Is death. But is it? Take a thousand humans,
Take a million, count up their behaviors
And control your matching variables.
Lovely large-scale patterns emerge, displaying
Measures of comparable tendencies.
Women over forty have trouble making babies.
Men over forty have many autistic sons.
Consumption of processed foods links tightly
To cancer. Couch potatoes rot. I am not
Anything except the sum of the vectors
Pointing my exact location on demographic plots.
I am gone already. I am here in defiance
Of tomorrow when I am not and yesterday
When I never should have been what I was.
When you can’t find me anymore you’ll say
That maybe I only got what I deserved anyway.
Deserve’s got nothing to do with me. Everyone
Who goes could cry, “We all deserved to stay!”
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