Backside Vanity
My movements, strange and nimble like the wind,
from where you stand must surely seem absurd;
and thus, your kind ignores my brushlike end,
instead to watch me dumbly steer a curb.
It's shameful that your eyes have been ensnared
by what you see as antics in the street.
Is not my gaily trailing limb more fair
than highly false perceptions of my feet?
You must be envious of me, though small,
for I can lie in heat, though sweltering,
and rest beneath my bushy parasol:
(I wonder if they're even listening.)
How can you understand my vanity?
Your butts are bare of such extremity!
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