If Brad Pitt were better aged,
and thin on top, and red veins raged
across his eyeballs, and the bags
that hung below them, scrotum-like,
were like the fat-filled, flaccid sags
around his middle; and the psych-
opathic anger, barely caged,
shone through a fringed white beard’s debris:
then you begin to picture me.
[This message has been edited by Michael Cantor (edited June 21, 2006).]
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