3/6/2022 (c) for Charlie
Well, I’d hardly say he’s effeminate, though he is dapper
applying a grand expression to his clothes—
lint-free top hats, well-shined shoes,
all the accoutrements in between.
His glasses are special, almost magic—
everything he sees he devours.
Whether he writes Dada poems,
paints surreal stories on canvas,
or presents a PowerPoint at work,
he burns brightly.
Sometimes he is too much—
an over-achiever, harrowing to follow
no matter how inspiring his endeavors are.
I tried to love him once.
I was barely eighteen.
There was little space for my ideas
and even less for me.
And like a lion in its grandiosity
he had plenty of wild cats in his pride.
