Asshat Men (#poem)

There’s a certain kind of man I’d rather not ever meet
They come at you when least expected and step on your feet
Saying and doing what they would never say or do to a man
They save this for me, yes, that’s their special plan
They puff up their chests, preen, and dance as if they’re the King of Siam
Oh look at him, Sam I am

The first time I recall, I was sixteen working on my very first job
Chatting with the line cook, we were staring at our pay stubs
He abused his position, he demanded to know what I was paid
When I returned the favor, he slammed his fist in my face
And then he said,
“Don’t ever ask a man how much money he made.”

Yesterday I visited the construction site
Taking photos of my new home in the broad daylight
“Big boss man” drove by in his macho truck, stopped to complain of lost materials as if it was my fault
I saw a familiar smirk on his face, with a big toothy grin revealing he was no friend
16 or 60, it does not matter to them
Send me more real men – you can keep weak, asshat men

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