Just once before I die I would
so love to see a lot of smiling faces,
each morning when I board the city bus.
Mind you, there is no pressing need
for outright reverence or admiration.
I am completely able to interpret all
nuances of your now familiar lines
crows' feet and ordinary wrinkles are,
what I have stared into, each working day.
So let me draw conclusions as I wish
as I lean back against the grimy, shiny seat,
wrapped like a Christmas gift from God
inside my salt and pepper London-tailored suit.
Tuesday, December 5, 2006