grooming for men

you’re down the gym doing reps
when this guy...

you’re down the gym doing reps
when this guy – hey, man, I’m Brad –

sticks out a paw, starts conversation,
teams up for your bench press, offers

encouragement, adaptations to technique,
incremental changes to make things better

life’s all about improvement, Brad says
over a beer in the bar down the block

where you talk football, girls, and muscle
cars, watch the padded bulk of linebackers

on the screen with awe and envy
as you tick down your hours of freedom

to another shift where Jorge will shout
at you over nothing, because he can

where neither you nor your pay cheque
are anywhere near acceptable

warehouse? Brad shakes his head, orders
two each, ice-cold, wraps one in his fist

drains it, belches, rolls his neck
brother, you’re better than that

and this is a gift, a revelation
which you ponder over and again

as you press 240 for the first time,
as Brad claps his hand on your shoulder

grins, shouts way to go, bro! way to go!
next weekend he pulls up at yours

with his tools, sorts the transmission
on your truck you meant to fix last summer

but didn’t, and you sit on the porch steps
all grease and sweat and satisfaction

slugging one cold one after another
in the cool of an autumn afternoon

where, if life isn’t perfect, you can
believe it might yet one day be

Monday, you’re all ears by the free weights
when Brad mentions an opportunity

a chance to double your paycheque
overnight, if you’re interested

lets it hang till you’re showered
and clean and sitting at the bar

enjoying beer and easy conversation
with half an eye on the screen and news

from Chicago, Charlottesville, LA
people like Jorge being dragged into vans

by masked-up goons in unmarked cars
with uniforms and pepper spray and guns

and Brad doesn’t need to say a word
just points a bottle, and yes, you say

yes, you’re in, you want in, want
the power, the paycheque, the thrill,

the brotherhood and the belonging,
a new world where you are free to slam

your rifle butt into Jorge’s chest, see pain
and fear in his eyes, march towards

that pretty wife of his with intent,
believe this is the life you deserve, improving.