Dan Brown

Not that I lacked an eye entirely, But give me an oblique enough kiss To visualize, and my eye said “See ya later.” A little practice might have sharpened it, But what was needed here was not as much A sharper as a higher order eye, A whole other orb altogether.

An unexpected consequence Of mine (and one that shows how well It really went, in a scary sense) Is at its most perceptible When I happen to observe a nose With the hump of  which my nose is rid (Though not my psyche, you’d suppose) And feel the sighting visited By what a lord might call a kind Of  pity: distant, tinged with scorn... A thing you’d more expect to find In someone to his beauty born.

I.e., the kind of   verse That doesn’t try to force People to their knees (Seeing as it sees To people’s being thrown By forces of   their own).

In the years I’ve been at this (Lots, not to be precise) You’d think that once or twice At least I would have seen Some anomalies. I mean Some major ones. As in Not feet but little wheels, Or crests like cockatiels’. Where are they keeping the girls With a chrome exterior, Or an extra derriere? Apparently nowhere. Assuming my sample’s valid, The pool is limited To the standard types I’ve tallied; Such variance as there is In the usual congeries Of   physiognomies — And yet enough of   it To be worth the looking at. The walking by, for that, Of   the same girl over and over Would be no cross to bear If   it were that one there.