the desperadoes & the bowtie.

You’ve seen it a 1,000 times
in a 1,000 different B-Movies:
a handful of assorted desperadoes,
unshaven of course, are grousing
for attention & start harassing
the wayward family out for
an uneventful breakfast
at the adjacent restaurant booth.

Say, the father has a thick head of hair—
Kennedy like— not bad looking, clean shaven
naturally, might’ve had a square jaw back in
school, but now its now a kindergarten trapezoid.
Oh, and he’s wearing a clown red bowtie
w/ a fog gray suit.

Say, the mother is pretty-easy-on-the-eyes—
the women in these spots always are—
like an abducted magazine model,
maybe pushing cleaning products.

Say, the children are typical:
one boy, older, & one girl, both full
of boredom, peanut butter, & a good standard
of living.

And say the desperadoes are us
after a night heavy drinking
& fighting in alleyways.

We make loud comments about
the ol man’s bowtie, a “boomerang bowtie.”

We also say things like,
“Let the kid have dessert, man!” or
“Let the kid try some coffee, for fuck’s sake!”

The father should’ve told us off,
or complained to the manager.

He just did a good job of ignoring us.