Not necessarily meant to be a self-disparaging treatise,   

But when I look at certain photographs of myself

I appear to be a normal sized man; as if I could walk

into a room of people gathered to celebrate something;

It's as if I could stand among them at eye-level and join-in

on their conversations mouth to mouth.

There, women needn't bend their knees and

drop their torsos when greeting me.

It’s all as it should be in the landscape of physical normality.

Now stones are thrown at my image. Stones thrown by me.

I’m small by comparison. I’m pallid when compared to

a naturally born Hawaiian, although not so much when

compared to Johnny Winters or "Lurch".–– And I'm Puny by the standard

of those who dwell among the "correct size and weight for their ages".

Basta! I shouldn’t complain. ––I was beautiful, once.

I had hair as thick as a southend accent which curled

in all the natural places, and I fit-in as much as any young man

among the young women on the weekend hunt.

My daily costumes draped naturally.

There was a time when I didn’t have to try on various teeshirts

in order to decide what it was I could get away with.

look at me now. ––I’m small. I’m pallid. Puny by comparison to those

who dwell among the "correct size and weight for their ages".

And damn.–– I’m repeating myself again, am I not.