We’d hangout every Saturday and Sunday evening making love to the steel plates, machines and barbells in the weight room. We’d give it all we got with our energy breaths, backbone and fervor and didn’t let up until hours later when it was autumn, cold, dark and the night fell full of empty heart.
We’d paused and lingered on one another between sets and smile like we owned the sun and I’d look up to your grace like an anchoring giant sitting in the middle of my heart’s desire and listened to your persistent sermons. Off onto the bus heading home crosstown I’d praised existence and its happiness all the sudden and turn my face away from the other passengers whenever I’d feel sullen about us.
I’d watch you watch me and you watched me watch you just like a crowd yet we were always at an extended distance with actions that were never to be spoken out and about. I’d wait around for you and asked if this is what you’d also wanted after I finished my exhaustive workout. You’d invite me into the locker room and performed a routine: mixing supplements, shaking your protein and layering up in clothing to either hide your muscles or create the illusion of bigger ones?
You have a knack for bringing up deep thoughts and heavy conversations when you flowed out of yourself like when you mentioned your father being murdered and how you only have one memory of him. I thought to myself, only you would know how to make the time in between grim and pick it up at a whim with a crafty grin.
But I’d remain silent, analyzing, hands folded, wondering why you’d come out the blue with these aching stories. Were you trying to test my comfort abilities? Or was this an unusual way of letting me know I’d be in the friend zone? If so, answer me please, so I can duly note it.
Remember when you asked me if I’m a patient person.
I do, and I’m sure you had a motive.