“Who you are speaks so loudly I can’t hear what you’re saying” Ralph Waldo Emerson
He sits there with mind distracted.
A posture that speaks mountains.
Stacked impressions file forward
leaping and stomping their feet
so loud, so loud.
My eyes must study his manner.
He has restless fingers.
They act like birds
that spurn the normal fare
and seek some heavenly feasting.
His hands give grace meaning
sweeping up the atmosphere.
Fringe hangs over one wondering eye.
Sexy is lost on his expression.
Vanity for him is furniture.
Fashion happens by accident.
As is true of all credible men
who wear what they will.