Guys night

We're not much for glory days;
The wives are out of town.
Both genuine and banal
We converse, belie, and banter.

Don't look for names in lights
Or record holding swagger:
Old deeds preserved in wax
Share absently, carelessly.

Who tells the men to bleat
On sundry scores and work?

The chants we utter roar

Full of beauty, romp and vigor.

Some long for greatness, silence;

Their enemy made timeless.

My only wish is this:

Unfeigned mutual dependence.

In a thousand hoary homes
You'll not discover greatness.
Dutiful, unrefined we sit
Our story told and ageless.

Seek to improve upon our chatter
And find your aspirations dashed.
The sum of a life: fickle puzzles,
Prosaic and plastered over.