angryoldmen

[angryoldmen]

the well

some angry old men draw nothing from the well

but haul the empty buckets religiously knowing

without faith their belief is no different than the hand-crank

and they no different than the drunken monkey

lying in the street. Never mind, they snap,

and what do you know of hand cranks and drunken monkeys?

and so far as lying in the street goes you know nothing,

nothing but what you see on your little screens,

flat textureless apparitions harping spells

luring you nowhere, pornography

offering an arid suckle.

buffoonery. 

there is work to be done, an effort made

before the big show begins.

some will tell you they can hear the crescendo approaching

others suspect it’s tinnitus or dementia

or wishful thinking, stupidity, resentment

sheer meaness.

no telling what.

shit happens and nothing is any different

and nothing will be.

some were told what to expect

and others were simply told to watch their backs,

there would be a reckoning,

debts will be collected

and in the end what counts is what counts

and bellyaching counts for nothing

so suck it up and get to back work.

a word now about wells:

they are intrinisically dark and deep.

or not. they require digging.

they will never be outed

and you will never be safe once you enter in.

they are essential to survival.

sometimes.

there are old men who sit beside them

listening and others who dance around them

singing and others who slither up to the edge

wanting and a good many who back away

insisting and many that say fences must be erected.

and signs must be posted

and hours restricted

and access limited.

and it is true they have been known to swallow small children

and skittish dogs and they have accommodated outlaws

and they offer no warnings or apologies

and they require none.

they harbor no ill will

they abide

young angry men and some

not so young angry men have been known

to build fires the beside wells

intending to capture

a thing or two

a sight or a sound or a notion leading them

beyond the circle and they might have

but they fell asleep and

the fire went out

and their shivering teeth consumed them.

one shit himself

and he asked his wife if that could be a sign

and she answered him yes my beloved,

you’re an asshole.

women have also been known to visit the well

but they do so with an air of inconvenience

and with little expectation.

they have more pressing concerns they say.

and when the angry old men see them approaching

they turn their backs and step away

as though they were leaving anyway.

they say that whenever two or more women

gather together at the well they speak in tongues.

they deny it of course but the angry old men know it’s true

because there are angry old women who confirm it

who say women at the well are conspirators

that they cast spells and brew concoctions

you can smell it, they tell the angry old men

and you can see it if you know how to look for it

and then the angry old women chuckle

because they know the angry old men know nothing of this looking

they pretend they do but they don’t. the angry old men

believe the old women but they do not trust them

they trust the younger women more

but they concede this is probably due to the spells

mumbling in unison that no woman should ever be trusted

and mostly they don’t except of course when they’re under spells