Those men:
The split image of paragon
The goody two shoes of refinement
On lawd, don’t they know it!
The very foolish citadins
Of extraordinariness
Mythologized in their extravaganzas
These are the sons of managers, or
City directors and the effete mobs
These handsome effeminate brag
Mostly and most often of their “been-to-ness”
Their only certificate and contribution to society
How can you miss the sound image of Brit tonality
The well-groomed forest of hairs
Or the confetti slough of skin freshness?
Of course, week-kneed, sea mermaids
Ready victims of their affections
The speaking voice of the new millennium
In a social crowd of the limited.
