Tall as the very heavens on stilts the Magnetic Man looms,
Infinite, grey, without a finished shine,
Peering from amongst the clouds his perspective tilts and swoons,
At the flittering activity far below the divide,
They are there gay and distracted, wondering at high ebb,
Tantalizing with vantage menace even if it’s playful,
Dare he join the fray so attractive, blundering also in the web?
Fantasizing through slanted remembrance even if it’s painful,
Gauche and clanging his giant clubbed feet forever rooted,
Like mountainous heaps in the junkyard of a plastic world,
Debauched and damning, it has snubbed him for he is not suited,
His doubtfulness increased as he tumbles with the fantastic turns,
How can they not see such a hulking mass of a white elephant?
Pasted against the horizon like an indolent artist’s impression,
In another time his massive sulking could be considered quite elegant,
Wasted and not surprising caught in an infinite bastard’s depression…