My back is made of cotton floss and razor blades
weak and angry
it yells at me all the time these days
don’t even think of lifting that
but I am still young and indestructible
I try to explain this
but my back is yelling too loud
to hear me
I rummage around for core muscles
like a picker in a bin
a blind picker
a locked bin
I explain to my son
that he is too big
to be carried around
but he hangs on even tighter
as though he is as scared as I am
of the approaching army of age.