When you frown, your face
screws into a knot
not dissimilar to that of
a clove hitch,
though to compare you to a
knot as useful as this one
would be to labour it with
a comparison
it doesn’t deserve.
There is beauty in seeing
a well-groomed, happy, obedient horse
tied neatly to a hitching
post
outside of a saloon.
There is no beauty in your
frown.
In fact, I do not know a
horse, rope or post in history
that has been afflicted with the separate
or collective ugliness
of your scowl.
I am reasonably confident
of this supposition and I will stand by it.
However, I must distance
myself from objectifying matters,
because it is an overly
simplistic device
used to derive an element
of humour from a place where there absolutely is none.
And therein lies my
problem. Or rather, your problem.
So for fear of comparing
you to something marginally favourable,
it is only fair that I
compare you to yourself,
because the only thing that
comes close
to the profound ugliness
of your ugly, frowning face
is your ugly, unfrowning
face.
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