Hard Man

Alone.
Another day.
Another work-out.

He's forging the hard-man's form
By breeding muscles with sweat.
Inuring his body and mind
Ready for the next blow.

Each dumb-bell lift and sweated press 

Bring him joy through strength.
The muscles are his means.
The gym mirror says, You have not failed.
And peach-smooth pectorals, in oil,
Glint purchased body-tan brown
Like appreciating eyes.

Before his body had been pumped 

Into the shape of self-respect,
His other skills were deemed expendable.
Fifteen years of loyal slog
Rewarded with the gift 
Of a thousand days' idleness.
Just too many days 
For his body to sag,
His mind to wilt.

Now the flesh-machine has new-found skills
Which no vandal can wreck or ruin.
Like clay to pot, 

His body hardens to the task.
Brittle-stiff, 
It aches to crack.