What gives you the right
to stand in the dark and make comments
To swagger there at the front taking apart people’s art.
A sea of fucking elderly people nothing dynamic about this group
When the lights came on it was bright and blue and cheap
The old guy beside me had half of his hair burned off and he kept clicking
in the darkness while you rambled on
in your knock off lumberjack shirt
what gives you the right
was it too bright, too gay, too young for you
to squint at in the darkness through your
gary oldman glasses
Your hair dyed, badly.
the smell of old age in the cheap light
the whining of the projector
out of here