future treadmills

don't tell me to run.
on the television they are talking
about a new kind of fitness.
one where you don't have
to think at all. plug yourself
in to a frozen tv dinner. 
i got my legs from craisglist.
a man texting me from the old apartment
to ask, "are you up?" i am never "up"
but sometimes i do sleepwalk 
& light my hair on fire.
the oven was going all day & i simply
walked in & turned it off.
the future has a chrome kitchen
& a land line. a dial tone
in the back of my throat. i tell you
over a dying candle. "i don't know
if what i remember is true."
the future doesn't ask questions like this.
doesn't excavate the wound.
puts on a baseball cap & chews 
beef jerky in front of the beer store.
there aren't enough reasons
to repair the ferris wheel. instead 
we could have a car big enough
to own the world. i do not want
to be healed. i want to have revenge.
i want to look beautiful without effort.
a silk scarf pulled from a costume closet.
there are too many guitar players
& not enough mandolin players.
i come to the hampster wheel 
holding my rose-scented rosary.
i used to pray it every night.
each bead a broken blood vessel. 
burst beach ball. don't leave me alone.
i have an outlet to crawl into.
you still have to teach me how to breathe.