FIT

A cocktail party cruiser,
a broker working the room, 
cornered me and asked,
“What do you do to keep fit?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m active
but not for the sake of fitness.
I hunt and fish.”
“Oh,” he replied, “I run.”
He looked at his watch,
touched his wrist as if
to check his standing heart rate,
already looking for another prospect.
“For What?” I asked.
“To keep fit, of course.”
“For what?” I repeated.
He paused, smiled nervously
and cleared his throat.
“So I’ll live longer.”
He was ready to bolt.
“For what?” I asked again.
He drifted off, shaking his head.
He only had wrong answers


Gregg Norman lives and writes in a lakeside cottage in Manitoba, Canada, with his wife and a small dog who runs the joint. His poetry has been placed in journals and literary magazines in Canada, USA, UK, Australia and India.