Like Baudelaire, his soul was born wounded.
He thinks he knows everything about everything.
Never wrong, a self-proclaimed judge and jury,
he announces a final verdict on any disagreement.
Supersmart and well educated
his capacity for empathy is close to zero—
doesn’t know his face is contorted in negation.
His mustache twitters as he wonders
why nobody wants to be his friend—
unaware he’s irritating and overly controlling.
When he holds forth, his chronic halitosis
makes everyone keep their distance.
He’s the most unfortunate person
you might ever have the misfortune to meet.
Competitive and charmless, he’s welcome
as a cockroach at any social gathering.
He’s also the guy who jay walks
and cuts you off when driving.
He earns a ton of money and counts
his cents and dollars every night.
You don’t want to know
what he asks call girls
to do with him in bed.
He has no idea how lonely he is.
The only way he can relax before going to bed
is by kissing a holographic photo of his deceased mother
and sucking his well-worn thumb until he falls asleep.