Saucer

He looked like a child’s drawing of a man;
too much brown crayon.

His milk bottle legs poked out
from underneath his too short trousers,

the snail trail scars on his shell fists,
nodded like an owl nesting in an elm tree,

the nicotine stains on his teeth
were maps of weeks spent sitting at windows

waiting for the weather, to grow up and show him something
beige and brown.