THE FACELESS MALE BLOGGER
Deprived of height, of hair, of roman nose,
Of wounding agile tongue, of confidence,
Of bulky menace clad in shabby clothes,
Of old man’s manners hiding fraudulence.
I write. Remotely, tapping on my keys,
Protected by invisibility,
Safe from the snare of facial expertise,
Of smirking physical felicity.
Quite unbetrayed. The words mean what I want.
I'm handsomer and more genteel this way.
Virtual yet virtuous, tolerant,
With time to choose the soothing elegy.
Beware! This safer wordsmith’s life
Deprived of height, of hair, of roman nose,
Of wounding agile tongue, of confidence,
Of bulky menace clad in shabby clothes,
Of old man’s manners hiding fraudulence.
I write. Remotely, tapping on my keys,
Protected by invisibility,
Safe from the snare of facial expertise,
Of smirking physical felicity.
Quite unbetrayed. The words mean what I want.
I'm handsomer and more genteel this way.
Virtual yet virtuous, tolerant,
With time to choose the soothing elegy.
Beware! This safer wordsmith’s life
Could mask a man who loves to beat his wife
Note: Initially this sonnet employed the first person singular. Worrying about the obloquy it might attract I changed it to the third person. But I fear this may not be enough. It ain't true, I tell you. Besides, the man in the inset is far better dressed. PS: Ignore the above note. Plutarch, always a constructive critic (see his comment), suggests the first person would be better. Since some of the details describe me, I think he's right. The I form goes back.
