Professor Penguin

The tell tale rasp of scuffing corduroy;
An unavoidable corrosion of inner trouser thigh,
Effortlessly drowning a soft shoe bounding,
With knowledge to impart he wanders campus

Leather features; Survivors of an eggshell blast,
Perform a showcase of eccentric ticks
Lips on inward pout, with eyebrows stable raised,
Downward tufts of nasal hair flow free in the breeze

Stubborn buttery crumbs of morning toast
Cling to the lapels of an ancient tweed,
Random splashes of a vintage port nightcap
Distort an already unfortunate polyester necktie

Smell? Of course! Like a second hand bookshop,
The one at the corner of Trafalgar Street in
Brighton to be precise—and as I recall;
Particularly famous for its musty penguins