He’s Only Young
He wears a wedge of kinky hair on top,
Created by the barber when he cuts
The sides and back. This ridge is like a crop
Of blackened Brillo pad. Where it abuts
The forehead, razor scraping has refined
The topiary shrub. A hedge of box
Could never look so fake. If there’s a mind
Beneath the style, it’s maybe made of socks
And other fashion statements. He can dance
As danglingly as sex. He doesn’t know
The sun’s a star. He dances to romance.
That’s what he knows about the moon’s pocked glow.
..The planet of his face has pimple spots.
….He sports them with elan, these polka dots.