What gives you the right

to stand in the dark and make comments

To swagger there at the front taking apart people’s art.

A sea of fucking elderly people nothing dynamic about this group

When the lights came on it was bright and blue and cheap

The old guy beside me had half of his hair burned off and he kept clicking

in the darkness while you rambled on

in your knock off lumberjack shirt

what gives you the right

was it too bright, too gay, too young for you

to squint at in the darkness through your

gary oldman glasses

Your hair dyed, badly.

the smell of old age in the cheap light

the whining of the projector

get me

the fuck

out of here