After some profound thinking,
I notice between his thighs a toaster.
It grills my attention to a crisp.
The process distracts me
From the fine crosshatched line work
Drawing my gaze towards his chin
Pen stroked with a fine triple ought pen
Weaving delicately across puckered lips
Connecting the Grecian nose of
The character to his hirsute brow
That hoods one dismayed eye.
And despite his trapped expression
The man's perfect trouser creases
Foretell that in spite of losing his job
He hasn’t lost control of his bladder.