FROM THOSE HOSPITAL MORNINGS

hes tall & thin
or looks tall because hes thin

& his neck is made of hollows
a deep shadow round his apple
from the 

phone stores 

heaven glare

in the shopping malls
level one coffee array

~

he is the colour of antiques
& his eyes are wet stones
& i see the misfires under his skin

i dont know him
but i know the look

from those hospital mornings
& the goodbye souls
on pyjama parade

& ending there