“what kind of man?”
man like marble statue, like water seeping through the cracks, like putting water on a grease fire
OR
man like animal, like the weight of the past or the weight of the world or the weight of every piece of shit that came before him
OR
man like I’m sorry, like lips zipped shut, like eyes wide open to drink it all in, unable to swallow
OR
man like frankenstein, like limbs sewn together— none meant to be his — like structures overtaken by jessamine, like father in a ditch after the storm
OR
man like softness, like example, like embroidery; flip him inside out and you’ll see all the ugliness it took to get him here
OR
or man like quiet, like loud, like nothing at all. man who you know would never
BUT
man like disease, anyway.