My buddies and I came here to march, to get out in the streets and make some noise.
The Women’s March this year was rebranded
the People’s March, and scheduled for 10AM
two days before the MAGADon would once
again take the oath to a Constitution
he doesn’t believe in and will not obey.
But before we marched, we had to listen
to speakers preach to the choir, as if we
didn’t know why we were there, or needed
the inspiration of people wiser
and more important than us.
How much more motivated could we be,
hauling our asses to Center City
Saturday morning, overcast weather,
the temperature just above freezing.
The speakers blathered on for two full hours.
And then it began to rain, not heavy,
but misting, cold going straight to the bone,
and the youngest among us seventy-five,
standing there on frozen feet, the speakers
droning on and on, stroking their egos.
My buddies and I came here to march,
to get out in the streets and make some noise,
not stand around risking pneumonia,
freezing our toes off listening to speeches.
We rolled up our banner and headed home.
