The Testosterone is Still There

There is a boulder in my front yard
and it is formed like an arch
at least three hundred pounds.
It is exactly ten feet from where it was yesterday
and ten feet farther that it was the day before.

It is slowly making its way to my backyard
to the rock pile where there are other trophies
that I have defeated in a pile.

My wife keeps telling me to wrap a chain around it
and pull it with the pick up.
That makes perfect sense.

But this is my Gibraltar
and it must be moved
by me alone

I squat at the knees
and make sure I have a good base
Begin working my arms around it
my fingers and hands

At the count of three I lift
and walk pregnant like a Neanderthal
Who’s just lost his tail.

I made four steps this time.
My lower back screams in pain.
I must let go.

The rock scrapes my forearms
and blisters each palm,
but I try to pick it up again.
I feel my bunghole in the back
of my throat and this is not a good thing.

I smile at my wife who glares at me
as if I am the dumbest creature on earth
I smile and tell her I’ll get it tomorrow
walking into the house bent over and slow,
like the told man I am.