While the left one doesn’t give me problems like it used to,

The right one hurts like hell, so I’m assuming it’s bone kissing bone.

The pain is like a volcanic eruption where no matter

How many pain killers I pop, or how much Icey-Hot I rub on,

Nothing seems to blow it cool.

When I complain to my friend, Gwen about the sleepless nights

And palms of ibuprofen I take, she jokes and says,

Well, you oughta stay off of them.

I would hate to think that my bad knees stem from

Giving years and years of blow jobs. Whittling down bone

On the tiles of mall bathrooms, or in the earth of some cruisy park.

Maybe it will get better with my next injection.

A needle in the joints by the hands of a hot physicians’ assistant,

But right now, my knees are like two gunslingers

At high noon shooting it out until the other falls.