Mick Jagger Could Kick My Ass

Old enough
to be my pop—
his fat lip stiffens
as I call him a fop.

He tells Charlie Watts to bang
his gong: “It’s so On now, wankah,”
Mick shrieks, “IT’S ON!”

I take a swing as best I can,
but this bantam rooster wrote
“Street Fightin’ Man.”
Sixty years of stone-clean living
are all about this thrashing he’s
giving. Mick’s veiny claw, clamped
tight ‘round my craw, my enlarged
heart quivers, I yell for my Ma!

Oh, would that I could
get him good, with trusty
Taser gun,