Looking confused

she looked at me,
and i looked at her.
we both seemed
a bit confused.
maybe it was
that we had
nothing to say,
didn’t know
what to say,
or had
nothing to say.
hell, it could have
been we just
had nothing to say
and we wondered,
what are you
looking at?

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How should this run be ran?

change has hit me –
again and again –
it’s what it does,
but i resist.
sameness permeates my life.
others see change, where
i see staticity.
i run upon this treadmill,
each step no closer than the last.
adjust the settings, yet
i remain immobile.
shall i modify my run according
to the settings,
or,
should I take a step back
and watch the machine run?