Tunnels Poem by Philip Hammial

I've begun to walk with a stoop. The weight of the world on my shoulders? No, not at all. It's the tunnels. Everywhere I go - out to the garage to find a tool, into a supermarket to buy some food - there's a tunnel to pass through & one that's never quite large enough for me to stand fully upright in. Who puts them there, always directly in my path, no matter what (even anticipating a sudden deviation on my part) & why? Out of simple spite? To teach me humility? I'll probably never know.