The Double Turn

 Saturday night
and I’m too young
for Honky Tonk Man and Hulk Hogan
at 11:30 P.M. on NBC.
It’s Saturday night
 half an  hour in
and I’m a confirmed Mark.
This goes on,
my enjoyment
for almost 30 more years,
the enjoyment, the pay per views at Josh’s attic apartment,
Ric Flair winning the ‘92 Rumble
after entering third
with no hope,
and Bobby Heenan moaning.
Josh’s mom used to bring dinner home
from the Clifton Club,
and I’d sit and thumb through
PWI.
"It’s fake, you know?"
Wow, how I wish that was the great big truth anymore,
the big secret.
I think Bret and Owen
may have missed the memo.
"Collar and elbow,"
there’s something sad
with what’s on my TV now.
Josh stopped his cable
and nothing’s on
to change his mind.
I was 10 when I started watching,
and saw Giants and Hulks, Hitmen,
Animals, Earthquakes, and Typhoons.
But I never thought someone
small by comparison
with this curdled storyline
and a brand - new moniker:

Monster.

Congratulations Chris,
you have finally accomplished
what my own wife could not do.
What Vince Mcmahon’s shitty product could not do.
What the Montreal Screwjob,
and World Champion David Arquette,
and Papa Shango could not do.
So burn in hell for this,
the newest double turn.
I once was a Mark,
and now everyone’s a smart,
even my six - year - old son
to whom I must answer to.
So congratulations,
I am finally through.