A week ago, I am in the grocery store

with an imaginary barbell laid across the top of my shoulders

and I am squatting.

In front of the yogurt, two squats.

Beer cooler- 5 quick ones.

I am squatting my way through the entire market.

My squats are repetitively predictable- I drop my ass “below parallel”

and try to gauge where my weight is settling on the bottom of my feet.

The sins of the father are visited on the son:

I am chasing my own precise weight shift.