KNEE DEEP IN HEAVYWEIGHT BLUES

I strongly suspect I have arthritic knees. The rain says so.
They always hurt walking up stairs, now they're starting to hurt
walking down the stairs.

There was a time, though brief, when I took Jesus up on his
"my yoke is easy and my burden is light" routine;
in today's parlance he was my spotter.

I admire the old bluesmen's dedication to their music and
its legacy of suffering, but they kept it alive for idiots with
few complaints. That's not right.

You'd be shocked to know that I once pumped iron, bulked up
on supplements, ran a pretty fair 40 before I took to sucking
on bongs and guzzling 40s.

Sometimes I felt clearer about it all as a result: an understanding
I had never before experienced that led back to God
(not Jesus this time, but close enough).

I hit my knees morning and night. Maybe that's how I
ruined them: by praying for redemption and climbing stairs
to sit at God's right hand.