A Slow Jog On a Perfect Sunday Afternoon in the Wet Desert

He started out just putting
one running shoe fitted foot
in front of the other with

the synchronized swing of
two hiking sticks – left
foot, right stick/right foot,

left stick. It was the last
thing he wanted to do on a
lazy, overcast, on again/off

again rainy, Sunday after-
noon, but his conscience got
him and out the back parking

lot onto the Phoenix trail he
went, moving out-of-the-way
of two, courteous, fast-moving

trail cyclists who took the
time to say thank you as
they sped past and one,

attractive, female jogger
to whom he simply nodded
as she passed. Forty minutes

of very slow jogging later
and a little wet from the
small, desert rain drops

which would have soaked
him with monster drops back
home, he stopped his stop-

watch wrist watch his wife
bought him on sale for five
bucks three years ago (only

needing one new wrist band)
and does exactly what he
needs done, held the mis-

matched hiking sticks in
one hand while “air high-
fiving” with the other and

looked forward to an even-
ing of British drama on PBS
and a couple of glasses

of cheap bubbly which will
do exactly what he wants


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