The lady on the exercise show
talks in calories burned
every hour. 413 for tennis
if you don’t have a partner;
236 for soothing Tai Chi.
I want to ask her the count
for smashing an electric dryer
on a hairy wet bathroom floor
blindly sobbing and screaming
until your vocal cords crack.
I bend to unplug the sparking remains
as a commercial clatters, dumb company
that tells me nothing about home repair.
The exercise lady glows and smiles,
bends herself into a clever yoga pose:
244 calories and the dog faces down.