The brim of his hat shows a hint of innocence, a hue of amazement.
You can tell he’s not ready, by his face and tie.
The tie is misplaced, to one side,
disfiguring his suit.
His two buttons even seem out of place, scared to death,
his pockets smiling, ready as ever.
In the past the cigarette holds slyly from his shaking hands.
Between his two fingers, ready as ever.
If you look at his pale face he seems typical,