American Male – Poem #142

Lots of you have pandemic hubris
“The virus wouldn’t dare!”
You’re not as tough as all that

drinking beers at the beach
pounding the wrong bit of sand
thinking you’re immortal
till you see your mom is a stat.

Or taking your rifle
to a building downtown
I mean
where do you get all that stuff?

Out of a store
where there’s another guy
“Yeah man! I need three more magazines
ya know Obama’s coming!”

“How about a camo glove warmer?”
“Yeah man!”
The guy who sold the pans
made the first million at the gold fields.

How about a glint-free dagger
for night op runs
when the liberals come
to take your guns?

Like some tree hugging guy
is gonna take your AR-15
which you took to the state house
and didn’t even use.

Such a good boy!
The lady Governor turned
a wry smile at you
like your school teacher in third grade

as you stood in the state house
six magazines strapped to your chest
ample ammo for whatever was next
and then you went home, changing nothing.

Real tough
except it looked like
a play date for ten year olds.
Grow up.

American male
we’ve been hapless for years
needing all the help we can get
to overcome our fears

over finances
over jobs
our place
the “other,” the future

and so we man up like sissies
afraid of that school bully
who will beat us up

scorning masks
carrying a gun
while involuntarily celibate
cause we don’t know how its done.

I know.
We’ve all been there
but it’s time to embrace tomorrow bro
which will not be the same as it was.


About toritto

I was born during year four of the reign of Emperor Tiberius Claudius on the outskirts of the empire in Brooklyn. I married my high school sweetheart, the girl I took to the prom and we were together for forty years until her passing in 2004. We had four kids together and buried two together. I had a successful career in Corporate America (never got rich but made a living) and traveled the world. I am currently retired in the Tampa Bay metro area and live alone. One of my daughters is close by and one within a morning’s drive. They call their pops everyday. I try to write poetry (not very well), and about family. Occasionally I will try a historical piece relating to politics. :-)
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1 Response to American Male – Poem #142

  1. beetleypete says:

    You nailed it, Frank. They look like hairy kids, ready to ‘play war’. I get the feeling that if someone ever fired back at them, they would shit their pants.
    Best wishes, Pete.

    Liked by 1 person

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