Life in the Soft Lane - edit

[dukealien]

Life in the Soft Lane


Anyone can see from my soft hands
how parasitic I’ve become of late:
palms without callouses, nails pink and clean;
loose knuckles never barked in shop or fight.
I’ve even lost my writer’s thickening
along those fingers pencils used to rub;
this week I took a chunk out gardening–
it bled like fun:  a farmer would have laughed.
But then, a farmer wouldn’t understand
how merely getting old could bring in cash
or typing, dreaming, all but mind at rest.
My idle life extends, I own enough
to buy my needs from men with hands still rough.

original version;

Anyone can see from my soft hands
how rich and useless I’ve become of late:
palms without callouses, nails pink and smooth;
loose knuckles never barked in shop or fight.
I’ve even lost my writer’s thickening
along those fingers pencils used to press;
this week I took a chunk out gardening–
it bled like fun:  a farmer would have laughed.
But then a farmer wouldn’t understand
(at least, no farmer only decades past)
how merely getting old could bring in cash
or typing, dreaming, all but mind at rest.
My useless life extends, I own enough
to buy my needs from men with hands still rough.

I owe someone a critique, but can't seem to find a submission to pay it on!