He’s such a modest, ordinary man -
accustomed to inferior position,
and only observation from behind
reveals a most peculiar condition.
It’s not hallucination or a joke,
it’s not a clever optical illusion;
or Hollywood production blowing smoke
to generate hysterical confusion.
Perhaps it is an attribute of class -
he’s blessed to live among the working poor,
and minus funds, he is deprived, alas,
of certain anatomical allure.
By accident or viciously attacked,
or due to freak disaster-slash-adventure,
the man in question obviously lacks
a derrière - that special gift of nature.
He doesn’t point the finger or complain;
he’s not in search of legal compensation -
to him the source of this heroic pain
is known. He understands the situation.
I only have myself to blame, he says -
I worked it off, the outcome was expected:
my ass is gone, but I can do with less -
as long as my illusions are protected.