Hispanic greaser gleefully creases his greasy hair
Running four fingers and a bike chain through there,
Cool dude with a complex complexion
Cos what I see is a reflection of my inherent racial detection
Or lack thereof and the resulting insulting inflection…
Soz bout that mate, humble pie on my plate,
Guess I’m in more of a state than your leather jacket –
Not a scuff or mark that needs patching!
No supple skin for plastic whims,
Got that concerned hand on his chin,
Concentrating on the consternation he feels
For the future he’s facing.
Slick back ya hair, ya hear?
Draw the midnight curtains near,
Flap those blackbird wings, one flick and the
Beak clicks for the raving raven nevermore.
Hope I’m not undermining your whole James Dean thing…
Chunky gold ring, straight outta Brompton,
Compost the compote, give it a strap and call it a watch.
Black strap wrapped around a wrist that bounces
In time to his bobbing leg, hobbling along
Or needs new shoes cobbling?
Probably plodding along in plimsoles with no bottom,
Does he knows it’s raining, or has he forgotten?
Window wipers for the glasses lens,
Rectangular rims, I’ll call ’em eye TV,
Highlighting the heightening ease
With which he can see.
He’s got film noir eyes, black hole pupils
Queen each disc, draught for draught,
Draft for draft, I’m being daft, had the first laugh
Now I’ll have the last.