My Men
My men grew up with holes in the knees of their jeans
and hair that was combed on Sunday.
Graduated to ride dirt bikes
while the girls watched.
Danced once they had a couple beers in em
and showed up for work on time no matter their condition.
Union men.
I grew up wanting nothing to do with them.
Low-lifes was what their wives called em
Showing up at all hours of the night
smelling like someone else
or bloody from a bar fight.
Always looking for the fun.
They got in lots of trouble
and got out of some, too.
The Irish glimmer in their eyes made it easy to look the other way
even though they were Canadian and maybe no one in the family
had been Irish.
They sure drank that way.
Quiet, most of them, in the morning.
Mostly cause they were always in trouble with one of the women around.
Better to keep your mouth shut and get fed.
