How cute is Wesley? Let me count the ways.
His cuteness has the length and breadth and height
Of soulful eyes, when beer is out of sight.
His sagelike beard, and his moustache,
Smoky with tobacco, sifted with ash,
Are colored much like Sid and as cute, quite.
He holds forth freely, where souls strive to Write;
He spurns false Purity, as all turn from rash.
He table-dances with the passion of cheap Juice --
He carves, I'm glad to say, with sober breath.
He paints almost in trance, mixed fantasy and truth,
And speaks most lightly his profoundest faith.
Smiles, tears, and all of life! is here to choose
And ever more we will find more, in Wes.
(ps: since this writing, Wes has given up both smoking
and drinking, and also started doing computer art.
I claim no responsibility for any of this whatsoever.)
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