The Hollow man

Tall and sharp and fit and lean
With hazel hair and eyes of green,
A slim cut suit in shiny grey
Standing in the coolest way,
And on his wrist there glistening
A great big silver time piece thing,
Hair cut neat straight back and sides
Trousers tight, nothing to hide.
He Slithers t’ward a marble bar
‘Hold my calls, bring round my car.’
Turning on his leather heel,
Licks his lips, tongue like an eel
Teeth of white, almost pearlescent
Smile that’s charming, effervescent.
Striding forward to his car,
Some Porsche, Lambo, Jaguar,
He stops a second just to see
The poor defenceless bumblebee.
Fallen, fat, intoxicated,
A hopeless struggle exasperated.
Smirking raises sculpted knee
And brings down a foot upon that bee.
Against all odds the bee survives!
And in one last act it flies
Onto the neck for one last thing,
And with his stinger proceeds to sting.
The man disappears with one small pop,
His suit and watch and shoes do drop
Onto the floor into a puddle;
In such a messy crumpled muddle.
And you might find this hard to swallow
Turns out the man – entirely hollow.


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