We all look like death. First Date breaks through the skin, tries being normal - cracking up, coughing - checks everything until checking is all. We see only what's there and honeyed souls hide in pavement cracks. By all means weep, make melodrama, but that, I'm afraid, is that.
Handful of sweets like teeth launched straight into his open mouth makes you wince: head flipped back - trilby glued on - and all over in no time. Back to the broken nose you first saw; and the glare. Looking around won't help - how nerves work is his living. His thoughts aren't many but they're stark and made for this. Have to hope something happens out of a dream: He loses interest and leaves. Close your eyes like life won't end.
This blankness, often dizzying background, Is never the absence of all the stuff desired Which would be easier. It's hill start pressure, plump with anticipation. What happened then? What didn't? The layers of the record are weathered away Until a backbeat warms the harshest vocal, The same word ringing out forever. And we didn't see it coming. There was nothing to see.
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