He’s Only Young

        He’s Only Young

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.