Cost of Living

Near freezing again overnight.
On waking, I feel tight in my joints.
And in my trigger finger, bone on bone
clacks almost like metal on metal.  
This flesh machine continues to calculate
the sums: how much the world has milked 
from it, how much it has been underpaid. 
How it's still being told there are 
debts outstanding. The world must love
survivors— it applauds us for returning 
to the labor of days, calls us resilient,
inventive, worthy of praise before setting
       the next deadline. The cost is mere 
       footnote, the side effect of living.