The Simple Act of Bending

The simple act of bending isn’t simple any more.
When something falls, I leave it on my very cluttered floor.
My eyes refuse to focus and my lower back is sore:
The simple act of bending isn’t simple any more.

The simple act of reading always sends me in a rage.
The tiny little letters swirl and dance upon the page.
I’m sure I’m missing nothing in this semi-literate age,
Yet the simple act of reading always sends me in a rage.

The simple act of dining now they tell me is a sin.
Don’t eat red meat! Don’t eat those carbs! 
     Don’t eat that chicken skin!
It isn’t worth the time it takes to get my dentures in:
The simple act of dining now they tell me is a sin.

The simple act of darkness, as the sex act once was known,
Was always over-rated, over-long, and over-blown.
The seeds of love I’m sowing are now seeds already sown,
So if you want my loving, keep in mind: you’re on your own.