Monday, April 1, 2019

Conscientious Objector

The war began in adolescence:

up,down,up,down,up,down.

With each passing year the struggle
was a heavier burden to bear:

up,down,up anddown.

He questioned what would be gained
from thousands more arm curls,
bench presses, squat thrusts,
endless hours of sweat and strain.

At first, the mission was clear:
build up the armor that would shield him
from the likes of the Cullen Brothers
who delighted in pulling down his shorts
in front of the playground girls.
Broadcast a preemptive signal:

DO NOT MESS WITH ME!

Protecting a delicate core was paramount.

His underdeveloped limbs and raging acne
embodied a defenseless perimeter
against neighborhood bullies,
ridiculing schoolmates,
callous caretakers.

Extracurricular activities were discarded
for a new religion in the gym
where biceps and barbells are hallowed
objects of worship. 

Now, his faith has eroded,
the core is hardened, campaign-tested, 
bearing the scars of hostilities lost and won ━
far more lost than won.

He resolves to put down the barbells
and tactfully retreat:

up,

down,

then out for good.


Mornings, rather than suffer the gym,
he will languish on the front porch
with a coffee and grand Wagner opera.
The parade of joggers will pass him by,
their sweaty flanks flapping in protest.

He will raise his mug in salute,
then turn to loftier ambitions.

Tomorrow, he will rise for the gym.

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