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The Stringbean Stranger

I came to life with goofy looks
That just my mom could love;
With mismatched parts that didn’t fit
I seemed consisted of

Dumbo’s ears and Jumbo’s nose,
A dandelion’s hair;
Washboard ribs and broomstick legs,
That ended with a pair

Of kangaroo feet that couldn’t skip
To save my scrawny hide;
‘Wore cowboy boots to give me calves
And long-sleeve shirts to hide

String-like arms that dangled long
And shoulders like a hanger;
And when I looked at normal boys,
I had to fight the anger

Of wishing for a little meat
To hang upon my bones;
‘Cause muscled boys attracted girls
To swoon around their thrones.

And so it went throughout my youth
The handsome weren’t in danger
Of losing Suzie to the one
They called the “Stringbean Stranger”.

A couple decades come and gone
Since beauty took it’s share,
And now it’s fun to look around
And see how we compare.

We’ve gained our weight and, holy cow!
The football star’s are porky;
With hair all combed to hide the dome
The Prom King’s looking dorky!

And me? My shirts are filling out
‘Til any day I’ll be
Nearly normal in my weight
For someone tall as me.

Others greet each crease of age
With anguish and alarm;
But “character lines” on my plain face
Sure can’t do me harm.

And so the gorgeous all decline,
And think the clock’s a curse;
But age can help us fellahs who
Could not have gotten worse!

Picture of Wes Stephenson

Wes Stephenson

Author, motorcyclist, poet, and adventurer. Let's journey together.

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