Keep moving

This is one my cranky writes.

I get to complain.

Once again my arms are shot.

Drive to the mountain did not help.

In an effort to understand,

 my arms are around three feet long.

Imagine dragging six feet of lead.

So I try to keep moving.

Yes,

 I am complaining.

I can't play hackey sack.

When I went to West Germany,

 we taught them how to play hackey sack.

We also taught them how to play quarters,

 and you needed an authentic quarter.

Their coins didn't have a proper bounce.

Notice I am staying in motion.

The Germans would kick our butt at soccer.

We had hackey sack.

I am sure it has changed.

I watch them bouncing the ball.

Hackey sack would beat soccer players,

 as long as we didn't have to run.

We get to hold our bier.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

reminds me of the problems with my elbow when playing tennis---hurts all over, even the good shots.

[Chris Shaw]

Greetings from across the pond. I think you are entitled to complain if your arms feel as though they are six feet of lead. That must make moving difficult. Your poem does keep moving, so that is important to you. I enjoyed your recollections of hackey sack and how you could beat the soccer players as long as you didn't have to run. Bet that made you feel good Jon.

Chris

[Jon Roggie]

This was around 1983. We started playing in the airport in Frankfurt.

[Jon Roggie]

At this time my arms stay still. Time for a few hours of sleep. Too many typos are starting to show.
Thank you, and I hope you are enjoying the morning.

Jon

[Chris Shaw]

Just about to start my day as you end yours Jon.

[Jon Roggie]

Just past midnight here. Hoping you have a good day before I awake!

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you. Sweet dreams for you.