Would You Please Stop?

I’m sorry.  I wrote another sonnet.

My Secret Life

When I’m healthy, I don’t feel so old.
This happens when I work out often.  I’d
like to note I work out when it’s cold,
or so hot, sweat beads trickle down my side.
I run the Croton Aqueduct byway,
through clouds of gnats and shadows leafy green.
And at the gym I hear the dumbbells say,
“Clink and clank!  Now do your abs routine!”
I leave the gym; my arm no longer trembles.
I walk upright.  Nobody can perceive
that actually, my true life more resembles
a subplot from the land of Make Believe:
Think Bill the Lizard, from that Alice book.
Chimney-flung.  Persistent in outlook.

– Bruce Ballard