your eyes are half-closed in permanent sleep
your voice is drippy
and your hairstyle is out of date
your legs are like tree trunks
the bark scaled with Dutch Elm disease
your voice is like a foghorn
your nose is squidgy and piggy
and your feet like a pigeon’s
your hair is like rope
if I were to run my fingers through it
I’m sure they’d come out bitten to pieces
by the indwelling creatures
half of your teeth are missing
but I have to admit
that your moustache is well-groomed
