[Image sourced from Favim.com]
[Inspired by Everything Everything’s “Spring/Sun/Winter/Dread”:]
Brush the hair, no split ends to flick,
to frizz out, giving the game away.
Straight’s the name; helmet to keep the thoughts within.
Practice that smile in the mirror one last time,
grab keys and walk – or should
she skip? Take to melodrama this play –
down the street, trying to blend with the throng
when thoughts are so different in her head.
Suits and other daily uniforms passing by, not
knowing her true intrusion to the dance
of phone chatter, mental preparation and
general social interaction of purpose genuine.
She practices again the mirror smiles, gets
funny looks for her efforts in return, stops
and takes on veneer of glum instead.
It’s not as if the sun is shining, here
or in her head. Looks to the ground,
shoulders slumping with invisible weight
and notices a curl in her eyeline. So much
for that mask of protection. As if on cue
the rain starts: she’s forgotten her umbrella,
of course. Keeps walking, now drenched.
It’s not the first time she’s arrived like that,
looking like something from The Ring.
Oh well, only eight more hours until
she can crawl back into bed, money earned
to pay the rent and other “necessaries”.
Is it? Necessary? She thinks, sat at desk.
The computer stares back, empty as her.
They’re both laughing silently.
[Copyright N R Nolan © 2015]