I have the luxury of visiting my folks this weekend out near the beach in Delaware, by myself. One of the pleasures of being here is getting on the fat purple cruiser with the bouncy seat and riding in circles around the nearby neighborhood called Warwick Park (which curiously is made of streets called Comanche, Apache, Sioux and Lenape).
I wouldn't ordinarily enjoy not going *somewhere*, but there's something light and pleasurable about just going aheadaheadahead without thinking too hard, just enjoying the different trees and porches and garden ornaments (!). It made me think about "laps."
The laps I know are made of legs--
tight together flat and straight
or criss-cross cradle on the floor.
But when I run around and round
from room to room on rainy days
tagging chairs and knobs on doors,
they tell me I am "doing laps."
I guess my laps are made of legs--
but mine are moving much much more!