“The Romantics”, he said, “Won us wars.”
Now they support dumbbells in a room of testosterone
Where you were tested,
Alone,
How many reps do you need to knock a guy to the floor?
Time not spent on words or meter but more
On looks.
Your purple tongues, your breath laced with foul liquor
lead to defensive gutter fights,
Cascading fireworks of kebabs, chips and bottles, threats and knuckles
Because you wanted to show you were mean and strong and tough.
But that mane of L’Oréal wax wasn’t fierce enough
To stop that rock fist, driven by the bouncer
Who broke your teeth,
Who knocked you out,
Who sent you crying home.

The old man told you to fan the writing flame,
He called you his mate.
The old maid told you to not stay out too late.