Fresh press the chinos,
They’re so benignly beige,
Please ignore his cover
And start flipping each page,
Pays to be patient
Says the doctor to the saint,
But staying so latent?
Well, that just comes with age – like,
Sandpaper stubble subbed in for soft skin
Or clothes in the dryer instead of hanging in the wind.
Rescind the winding whines of wheedling strife
Cos the logo on his backpack promises
A ‘unique concept for a highly active life’
Living the Hi-Life, ain’t got no high tops –
Pops rocking reeboks in titanium white,
And yeah they look nice, but I wonder
What they’d smell like if I took a peek inside?
Let’s just take a step back and say
‘The thought alone will suffice’.
Nice, crisp shirt, not too loose, not too tight
Covered in white dots and buttoned right to the top,
Cos when his fingers start fumbling
You know they never stop.
Feet crossed but legs not; dozing, posing
Specs on his nosey, strung up with white string
Which composes his clothesies,
Cagoule, cap and all.