Manly Poem by The Poet SPIEL

as i fail again
to kick-start my harley
i'm not about to wussy-up
for a softshoe push-button starter
cuz it's this repeat slam

of my boot's whack-down
on this gawddam kickbar
that makes me feel like the he-man
i relish being in my dreams
through every bloody workday

as my legs jerk and jitter under my desk
while a lineup of miserable males
limp in to whimper
over tired tales of loss
of the art of reciprocity

(or so their others have charged)
like they have fallen short of
the most primal function of communication
being that of grunting back
when grunted to

so at a hundred-fifty-bucks an hour
these tortured souls
drag their imposed shame into my lap
and with my counsel they learn
they can crank up the will

to slit the throats
of those who emasculate them
thus adding to my spoils
their unthrottled passion
while revving up my will

to purge the hostile urge
that drives my right arch crazy
for ramming the kick-starts
that grease
my he-man reverie