Old virgin lady in a bottle of vinegar
A shrivelling Victorian, a well-preserved chimaera
About to go mad from tears she can’t cry
Almost insane from feelings denied.
Old Joe London in a leather jacket
With bombings on his doorstep, riots in his garden.
The Prime Ministers face like a mask of china,
Shattering in a kiln of gothic architecture.
How different are other people’s lives,
How narrow their footpaths,
How small their rooms,
With the hum of the traffic in the yellow lamp lights gloom.