At the Health Club

The strain of muscles under creping skin
I best enjoy in a public, paid-for venue
where, as an elder, I can, unnoticed,
observe the vagaries of the younger.

The kaleidoscope of hues and styles
Of shapes and shades and tonings
Are public display of inward obsessive.
An exception being trolling for hook-ups.

Couples appear like lawn dandelions
rare enough to be noticed whispering,
and power lifters, bulging on machines,
talk conspiratorially to each other.

The narcissi pose before mirrors
or on equipment facing their phones,
in barely sweaty self-indulgence
ignoring the other self-absorbeds.

I accept most, acknowledge many
and remember the names of a few,
A poseur with self-inflicted aches,
a shorts and tee witness to absurdity.