"and the elements / So mixed in him " ... A man sits across from me in a meeting, exhibiting no less than three characteristics I detest.
Sneakers - cheap ribbed sneakers of a plastic-bucket blue - worn with formal trousers (how I would hate California!). Mouse-coloured trousers at that, guaranteed to deliver maximum puke value in combination with that blue.
A comb-over. Wispy, ineffectual, like clouds across a full moon, ending in a coy swirl of curls near the nape of his neck. And dyed to boot!
One of those vestigial moustaches that crawl across the upper lip like a thin tardy millipede or perhaps a smear of snot from a half-suppressed sneeze.
A fourth trait is evident the moment he opens his mouth - knows nothing himself yet believes that nobody else knows anything. As if he, greasy disastrous assortment of ugliness, is competent to judge.
On the wall just above his head is a picture of a sewage treatment plant. Two giant circular pits that process shit. How appropriate.
I have such a rewarding work environment.