Almost there

Almost there

So close to being

The real thing

Inching up slowly

A venetian blind artfully poised

Sharp rays of light slanting

Across the room

Highlighting the separation

Between inner and outer

Tempering expression

With a wan smile

Tipping a nod

Against convention

With a flat cap

At an eccentric angle

The shadow of the peak

Hiding dark circles

Around the eyes

Deep furrows

Cut across his forehead

That told of concentrated sadness

He had removed the paper hat

It was too exposing

Ignored the miniature

Pack of cards

A gift from the crackers

Threw aside the joke

He had read them all before

And can imagine

Sitting in a corner

Of a street cafe

Beneath a jacaranda

Drinking dark coffee

Under the purple canopy

Drifting in and out

Of the moment

Waiting for reality to catch up

With the dream

Before the nightmare returns

And he is back in isolation

Watching the world go by

From behind the

Leaded window

Stained with the dirty old smoke

Of yesterday

Lonely fingerprints

The sweat of a troubled brow

Insanitary graffiti

He would like to visit the grave

Just once more

Lay flowers

Say a prayer

Go for lunch at their place

Sit at the usual table

Before the day comes

He is finally called

And sunset falls.