The Effeminate Man
The effeminate man is a weak poultice. He is a cross between a root beer and a ginger pop, with the cork left out the bottle over night. He is a fresh water mermaid found in a cow pasture with his hands filled with dandelions. He is a tea cup full of syllabub-a kitten in panatalettes – a sick monkey with a blonde moustache. He is a vine without any tendrils—a fly drowned in sweet oil—a paper kite in a deal calm. He lives like a butterfly—nobody can tell why. He is as harmless as a cent’s worth of spruce gum, and as useless as s shirt button without any button hole. He is as lazy as a bread ball, and has no more hope than a last year’s grasshopper. He goes through life on tiptoes and dies like cologne water spilt on the ground
Title: The Effeminate Man
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Media: Newspaper article, glued to Page 168 of the Ledger of Captain W. B.
Blair
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