says the old portly man.

He has a mustache and his face
is red like a beet and his stomach
is swollen like a tumor and his chest
is covered in coarse fur.

"Edit sober!"
says the young muscular man.

His hair is neatly combed.
His hands are calloused.
He has seen war.
He has known love.
And he will know
the barrel
of his gun.