Who cares if there's a freezing wind-chill factor,
Who cares if there are snowdrifts ten feet tall?
Just as the show must go on for an actor,
I'm driving through a blizzard to the mall.
Is there a pre-sale for my favorite label,
An outfit for a "do" that's just my size,
Or half-priced purses piled upon a table,
And row of racks for debit-credit buys?
Well, not today-today I do my hiking-
But not upon the Metroparks or street-
I'm circuiting the Superdome of Selling
Without the wind, the slush, cold, sun or heat.
Oh, here they come, the swingers and the prancers,
In groups they glide around the marble floor,
Some nimble as a room of ballroom dancers,
Some floppy as a fish tossed on the shore.
And there they go, resolve upon their faces-
The snappy-suited and the baggy knit,
With Velcro straps or walking shoes with laces-
They demonstrate the meaning of True Grit.
And who am I to criticize their labor,
Their gait, their clothes, their choice of walking shoe?
The fight for fitness makes them all my neighbor;
MY rear (in passing gear) looks funny, too!
So hop right in whenever you find spaces,
Ignore your aches and pains, your wretched knee;
Even merry-go-rounds can take you places…
It's fun, it's fast, and best of all-----it's FREE!
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