the line-up is shorter

as people get picked, for careers, marriage, death, disease, and let’s hope—not dismemberment

I want to stay a member of Club Body.

Not to be picked, is a failing, or at least teams might say

“You can’t hold-out forever, for perfect love, or a task that will choose you.”

To be picked, is to be acceptable, to be accepted (not for you).

You must acknowledge

what chooses you

Is it acceptable? What if it’s not?

You are waiting by the road, and a killer offers you a ride

Do you take it, because he drives a brand-new Firebird?

Keep walking…

If you allow teams to choose you, they will use you

they will celebrate your service

with a 5-year mug, as you drink your life away

the alternative, is no recognition at all

waiting, for wonderful

In time, when you don’t belong, you will be a vagrant

policed, for standing out-of-place

but if you choose what is not your choice

you can never go back.

A voice

speaks to you

as the crowd screams your name

DON’T DO IT!

listen to the inner one

you won’t get fame

It will be

a gradual feeling

you are doing

what’s right

All the nights,

that might’ve been, won’t matter

the women

the tug, pulling at your heart-strings,

pulling you away, from the Crowd

beating loud

the muscle that moves your blood

Club Body.