I lie in bed and ache,
willing legs to relax,
back not to spasm,
arms and shoulders to go to sleep.
At fifty-plus years I wonder
when can I stop?
So many years of gravity pressing on my feet,
spinal compression from lifting heavy things,
so many years chasing profits
for the other people
making real money from my sweat.
I have a bad habit.
I bought in to the work ethic.
I carry pride everywhere except the bank,
but I ache.
Where is the rest that supposedly comes
from hard, honest work?
Lying in my rented bed
I ache to feel it.
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