Stick It To The Man

At 70, he was a man who wrote cheesy love songs.
He would play at ratty children’s birthday parties,
For cash-ridden couples and homeless romantics.
And every Monday for forty-five years
He would make his way down to the bar.
With his guitar slung tightly at open-mic, he would point to the young men and say,
“I hope this never happens to you
Though I’m sure it probably will.”
Then he’d smile for a while from cheek to cheek
As if it were a different time.


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