Take a gander at this old bastard.
Tattooed – covering arm
back wrist.
Names of his children penned
into pink flesh.
His long gray matted beard
falls into steaming stew.
He curses and pulls the tips
out.
They cut the ends off – because he doesn’t care any,
this old bastard.
He wears a kilt (and a t-shirt
that says “Screw
You” in bold white on black lettering)
in the frigid Canadian
morning air.
And marches with his brothers
in honored Scottish
procession.
Ain’t he beautiful?
I play video games quite often - on the internet. And in the midst of my gaming I met a guy from Canada who uses the handle Twobit in game. He recently posted pictures from the Scottish festival he attended. It inspired me to write this poem.
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