I like what women do.
When they run, I almost cry,
So overcome by the natural majesty of it,
And when they engage in sports
I worship that, too;
I never tire of their exertions
In any physical trial
Which makes them breathe harder.
I remember once, when you
Decided not to move
And began to speak.
It had something to do
With your opinion of me,
And how you viewed me as weak.
It had something to do
With another woman, and how
I let her push me around.
I looked at you. I just looked at you.
And then I fell to the ground.