I stand on the corner picking my nose,
No paperazz’ snaps me, nobody knows.
I sit in the main square, no mob rips my clothes
Off my back, no autograph-hunters group round like a pack.
I’m not a Celeb, so don’t get me out,
No need to evict me from the Big Brother House.
I’m not on YouTube, Facebook or MySpace,
You’ve not heard my voice or gazed on my face.
I don’t grace the cover of Vogue or GQ,
Endorse tacky products, hang out with U2.
A tidy arrangement, it suits me just fine,
I don’t crave the limelight, I’ve no wish to shine.
Forefinger in nostril I winkle out snot,
The crowds pass me by, they don’t care one jot.
Thank God I’m not famous.
1/7/09
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem