the steam room

the old men,

rich

with money, 

it's shown in their bellies

and the redness

of jowls, their

manicured nails,

eyes full

of whiskey

and women.

confident lions,

but lions no longer

on the prowl.

you see them in the steam

rooms,

the board rooms,

at the club bar,

in the fog

of half light.

towels wrapped around

their pink bodies.

bow tied in silk, 

sweating

out what's left

to pillage or plunder

in this life.