I’m a streaker, I admit,
And (mostly) I’m not proud of it.
It’s simply easier to do
The same again than something new.
I ran one race the year it started;
Now I might be broken-hearted
If I had to miss a year?
There’s something not-so-healthy here.
I don’t think I’m OCD
But isn’t everyone (two, three)
The slightest bit compulsive when
The other option’s start again?
If I’ve put in a ton of time
Toward running, learning, writing rhyme
Or nearly anything and built
A lengthy streak, I can’t but wilt
A tiny bit if interrupted.
It’s as if the deed’s corrupted
If a multi-hundred run
Of instances is re-begun.
I know, it’s good to take a break.
Too much is always a mistake.
I know all this…and yet…and yet…
I mean to quit, then I forget.
And so, as K.V. wrote, it goes.
I streak, but mostly wearing clothes.


2 thoughts on “Streaker

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