The Dead-Before-Death
Gang
They wear geezerdom
like scruffy badges of honor,
snarl at women who enter their lair,
a fetid saloon for cranky,
resentful men who have succumbed
to stale testosterone poisoning.
Looking in, I see a gang
of the living dead.
They drive away all who care,
with their pissing and moaning,
communally nurse escalating
bitterness, grudges.
They fester and stew,
obsess over ancient, exaggerated wrongs,
take privilege for granted,
imagine vindictive revenge.
The 21st Century
passes them by.
--Jennifer Lagier
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