They stand around,
Chests puffed out like
So many parading turkeys,
Trying to best each other
With stories of dubious
Exploits and successes.
The same anecdotes bandied
About with little variation
From year to year,
Reliving past glories
That never existed
In the first place.
Gathering after gathering,
No change or growth
Infiltrates their ritual,
Just obstinate sameness.
