Aging Punks
by Marc Alan Di Martino
wear tight & faded Hüsker Dü t-shirts
to the mall, hum “Blister in the Sun”
while changing diapers—sottovoce—hoard
old vinyl in broken milk crates
beneath the stairs, drive spouses crazy
with guitar noise, proffer wild anecdotes
of having played in this or that band
before things got serious, rocking
the walls off some friend’s parents’ rec room
lined in faux wood paneling and reeking
of mothballs. They grow their hair
inward and think irregular thoughts.
Every so often, they add a tattoo
in honor of some long-forgotten love.
