scars and troubles

My rib hurts, particularly
when it rains, even now months after
I fell on the ice cracking it (my rib)
and knocking myself out.
And my hernia scars
(from repairs done in 1995)
get this piercing throbbing action
if I stand too long or sit too long
or walk or run or stroll or swim too long.
And of course there’s my lower back,
chronic pain from a serious surgery,
bending me forward a bit
just enough for people to take notice
and feel they have to comment,
either with something caring and heartfelt,
“Yeah, I pulled my back out once skiing,
I can feel for you.” Or jaunty,
“Throw the back out again hey Mike?
That’s a bitch.” The neurosurgeon
is sending me in for an MRI,
suspects I’ll need another operation
hopefully to set things right again
for awhile. And there are more things too
plaguing my aging body
that I won’t bore you with
and all from living a rather sedentary
existence like a mushroom or a sea
anemone. Imagine the scars and troubles
I’d have if I had behaved all these years
like a real man, drinking and fishing
and boating and riding metallic bulls
down at Matty’s Cowboy Bar and Grill.