Ode to the Squat

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The young man looked fit, thick through the chest.
Bulging biceps and triceps. Washboard abs and the rest.
He strode a bit closer. To my shock and surprise!
I saw his torso supported, by two spindly thighs!

He walked with confidence and no apprehensions,
as he performed his first set of leg extensions!
I watched this debacle, watched his face turn askew.
Watched him scream in mock agony, 'til his set was all through.

T'was then I approached him and extended my hand.
"I don't mean to disrupt you, but excuse me, young man!
I was admiring your work. Man, that set was nice!
But I wonder if I might offer some helpful advice?"

He spoke not a word. Simply nodded his head.
I could read his expression. He wished I were dead.
"Get off this contraption! You're wasting your time!
Go to the squat rack! You can see....there's NO line!

You don't need machines! You don't need to look far!
Just load on the weight and get under the bar!
Unrack that sucker! Squat ass to the floor!
Grab some big plates, and load on some more!

Hear the iron rattle as you pound out each rep!
But please, my friend! YOU must take the first step!
Come with me now! To the squat rack we'll go!
Together we'll get those tiny pegs to grow!"

He studied me hard. He seemed in a haze.
No words came! He stood in a daze!
'Say SOMETHING, son! Speak to me, PLEASE!'
'I can't do it!', he screamed! 'I have bad knees

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