unrelieved by sleep

on a rainy saturday, you say
"you're a wolf, they say":
      the sleek line of my hair perhaps,
      lenin's goatee too much to the point?
      the sharp cut of my eyes
      beneath a furrow of thought?

was it the way i read the paper?
or slurped my coffee without lifting the cup?
      ah, perhaps just that, my lean eyes
      flashing sidelong, dissecting life
      with radar-essential penetration
      beneath a mind obviously unrelieved by sleep.