Mechanical Wrestling

Laying upon my back
Concrete cold and flat
Accepting one hundred pound's
Of aircraft generator

Then me pushing up
And it pushing down
My shoulders flat
For far longer than any three count

Up into place
Might as well be outer space
As my trembling arms
Threaten to give out

Finally a slick mechanical feel
And everything lines up
Slides in

Only a technical win
But I'll take it