A middle-aged man in an open shirt A shaped and sculpted five-0 shadow fuzz An earring and a tat, sneaks and jeans because He wants to reach the kids where they’re at
And where they’re at is in suppressed giggles At an old man with a pimple-microphone Around his face like mucous on a wire They pocket-text each other angelically
“Can I have an ‘amen?’”
He puts the devil in a world of hurt That middle-aged man in an open shirt