Shirty

trousers that bring to mind,

war-time rationing,

of cloth, i mean.

shapely shoes, pointy-toed,

heeled and heavy,

not for the ballerina with meaty thighs..

shirts that think

short sleeves and

hair all over the arm-band,

is cool and can collect,

glances, one way or the other,

you don’t even leave the flowers alone,

festooned as they are,

on your collar, lapel and wherever else,

good god, is this

the masculine concept of beauty?

spare us,

lily-livered souls that we are,

this mindlessly draped

disaster that’s you.

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