The Cafeteer Poem by P V Harrington

The Cafeteer

Rating: 4.5


I think you think he's in disguise
Running round with Bowie's eyes
A bowie knife and Bauhaus flies,
But maybe he's just frightened.

You caught his chin through hardened glass
Sipping dregs, immune at last
And groaning over Gormenghast,
As water courses tightened.


(Paris Oct,2014)

Sunday, October 12, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: Isolation
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