THE NEW SIXTY

Give me something

To make my knees laugh

For today they are

In the emergency-use-only mode.

I remember when “hip”

Meant trying to fit in;

Now, it’s titanium, screwed,

Holding my life sentences together

Like a hyphen.

I remember when burpees

Made the best burger toppings

When 150 was a decent bowling score,

Not an iffy blood pressure.

I have learned the CrossFit way

You can’t staunch wounds

With sweatbands and terry cloth.

I should have taken up

A less bloody sport

Like hunting and trapping.

Today I am so sore

I could not perform

A set of diddly-squats.

I have come to a crossroad

At CrossFit, waiting

For the white digital walking dude

To appear, knowing

Full well there is only

A small road cone separating

“age-defying” from “age-denying.”

Hey, that’s not me with a limp,

But a 65-year-old strut.



Robert E. Petras is a resident of Toronto, Ohio and a graduate of West Liberty University.  His classmates voted him most likely to recede.  His hobbies include beer drinking and walking around aimlessly.  

Categories: Poetry

Daily Drunk

Shawn Berman runs The Daily Drunk. You can follow him on Twitter @Sbb_writer.

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