The broad spreading middle-
aged middle you daily try to tighten
and deny will ever become that much of a problem.

The bumpy Spartan head you shave then
shine to Palomarian lustre, as if the reflection
could ever penetrate the dying sponge within.

The bulky, arthritic legs that spawned
such pride in youth, as you lightly danced
around your "future" maturity.

The tiny black barbs encrusting your
arms you claim protect you from being hurt;
that really prevent people from saying hello.

The lame little goat with too many hues
feeding on both of your chins; much
like you always avoiding description.

The hazel eyes that once roasted
with the burning lust of youth, now
need magnification to see clearly at all.

The chalky amorphous ass you never seemed to grow;
perhaps you spent too much time being one,
to ever fully develop one, that ever would show.

The broad firm shoulders that once
filled rooms with courage; now droop
slightly from too many third-person burdens.

The curiously deformed foot you try to hide
under socks with sandals not wanting to bear
the questions and stares from children and women.

The ugly, mangled hands that type
these words, that silence the heart
aching to sing through guitar and piano.

Yeah just look at you...
and try to see the beauty and strength
everyone else has always seen within you.

The teddy-bear tummy that children
always love to rub, supporting
the arms of the women you love.

The bright shining dome containing
a mind many have called both brilliant
and scary; not really needing the additional polish.

he carved pristine pillars that have
driven you to excel, to never say die
buttressing your indomitable, enviable will.

The paint proudly announcing your brash
Anarchist past, refreshing and connecting you
with those fading dreams of your not-so-distant youth.

The ticklish hairs gently guarding your
smile as you childishly stroke, tug and weave
them into the point of your own blunt exclamation.

The soft warm eyes that have been called
disarming, that allow you to see troubled hearts,
through false pretense with both clarity and purpose.

The seat, your stability, the butt of your own
condemnation, warming peoples hearts
while solidifying your conviction.

The strong frame that many hold onto;
endlessly aching to hold the children
that The Father still graciously sends you.

The stump; yes the stump that only YOU
seem to notice; the feet that have carried you
farther than even you dreamed possible.

The powerful hands whose touch
shapes your passion; that have held so much
beauty and allow THIS written expression.

Yeah just look at you...
and try for a minute to see who you are,
instead of always worrying about who you’re not.