Beautiful Loser

You're a beautiful loser

in that red surfer t-shirt

and blue panel van

even the paint smears on your labourer forearms

and your possum-in-the-headlights stare

add wairua to your duckling grace

You cut off those dreadlocks

which you’d cultivated for years

and the other night you told me

as we stood in the club bar melee

maybe you’d been too hasty

I liked the image they gave you

kind of piratical, wild-man, free-man

but you’re still a beautiful loser

though you’ll need to wear a hat now

when the ozone hole stretches

Like the hole in your pocket

the cell phone bill makes

when your wife phones too often

just to talk about nothing

or, “What’ll we have for dinner?”

because she gets a bit lonely

only talking to your babies

and she’s really in love

with her beautiful loser

So you’re a small-town production

short hair, short expectations, short patience

with politics, religion, social engineers

you suspect the reds and the greens

much like your father in his time

he was a beautiful loser, too

and you don’t want to be like him

but seem to be anyway

with your construction job prospects

loan repayments and family ties

You say you’re overweight

try to resist bar-snack temptation

to me you look plump with good health

but you are how you feel

and we all bear a secret image

of disappointment close to our hearts

and I can say what I like

but you have to believe

that you’re a beautiful loser.