by Rory Donohoe (he/him)

Thoughts sit at the top

along with a questionable 

hairline. Eyes and ears that see

and hear what they shouldn’t.

A mouth that talks way too much.

All surrounded by more hair.

Don’t forget the

neck that

holds up that

big bulbous head alongside those broad shoulders created for

pushing players away, only because they were told to.

A bruised and fuzzy chest gone soft containing a beating

heart that sometimes gives out, but when it does it hurts. Hugging itself with arms that don’t

don’t go for very long but certainly go wide. Beasts of their own maker created with laziness

both in the gym and out. Lifting like workhorses but sleeping like them too. We can’t not

mention the stomach. The belly that lies beneath that

adds to the pregnant look. The one that looks fine from

the front but once you turn to the side you can see milk

curdle before you. A bottomless pit that has led to stret

ched skin and kilograms of regret, but it refuses to give

away any room. Wide hips don’t help either, but usually

don’t get in the way. Thankfully. And to be honest, there’s

not much else to talk about in the front or the behind…

Those tree trunk legs work

tireless hours keeping this whole

operation going, even when for

the most part they don’t want to.

Even refuse to. The big wobbly things

tend to collapse under their own

weight and would much rather

lie down on a nice bed or couch.

I’ll come back to the feet later but

these hairy legs haunted me at

a younger age. I was called Chewbacca

because I grew up faster than the rest of

them. Today you can’t get me

out of a pair of shorts. And yeah,

the feet aren’t great: flat with ingrown

toenails, but they get the job done.

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