The men at the cafe


︎︎︎ Pierre Minar

︎ Nov 13, 2025

have eyelids, a little limp,
bowed, bound
tilted to telephones about
sixty degrees gently
upon the vee of the crotch,
on the border between
masturbation and prayer;
Mandibles taut and swift
brown thumbs opposing
make-believe maniples;
Every man believes
he’d’ve made a great
ancient general;
Let’s wrestle together—
after the battle’s release,
relief; Rest brothers
Everything’s taken care of
or will be soon



Pierre Minar is an able horseman.