Palimpsest

Hog

A shambling figure made for a hog,

Studs, chains & leather

And suitably hirsute,

Belly obscuring a belt buckle

Declaring his allegiance 

To Mr. Harley and Mr. Davidson.

Cheap (looking) glasses perched on his head

Above a ball cap in reverse 

Covering his balding top,

An affectation 

That should have been abandoned

With short pants

And teenage angst.

Ride what you please

But restrain the urge

To don costumes

To declare your views.

It simply screams to me

“This is one I do not wish to know.”

I’m too quick to judge.

A personal failing

That I struggle to correct.

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