Absolutely TRUE!!

FEATHER


Today, the only rowing machine readily available
was the one that seemed the most demanding:
meting out and receiving harsh punishment
to/from any who braved the ride.

Its bits of apparatus were all askew,
and its T-bar chain-pull had been
rocked clean out of its cradle -
having instead the appearance of a
flirtatiously pinged bowtie.

I paused beside it
and sheepishly glanced round -
as if my thoughts could be read:
Shall I, shan't I? ...

Yesterday, I had been on the rower next door,
(casually doing my Jerome-K-Jerome-thing,
paddling gently down the stream),
when a kick-ass athlete mounted this adjacent beast,
whipping it into serious frenzy
within a matter of just moments;

All faces turned upon her
in bewildered astonishment
as the moans and groans,
the punting and the panting,
the squealing, squeaking and screeching
mounted and swelled
so noisily from within her,
ringing round the gym as freely
as it would in any labour ward
or on any blue-movie film set.

But, such is the awe and respect
with which the God of Sport is revered
in that Hallowed Hall
that we just ached for her
to reach her climax and win:
"You go, Girl!"
And, eventually, she did!


... I didn't, but perhaps, who knows?
Some other day I might be brave enough!
One day, maybe, it might just tickle my fancy
to feather my oars, get on down,
kick serious ass and WIN!