everywhere

Hidden away in the bathroom

the tiles are left wordless

Cold and lifeless too

Evey poem is a failed self-portrait

I am here too

making it up as I go along

Kept from the stars by windowpane

Kept from reality by the door

mime

It is in france

the mimes have all gone post modern

You pass them on street corners 

defaced by alleyways

unable to grasp their age

without makeup the face has melted off 

they stand there without lifting their cane

they don't give a shit about your change