Looking back at the theatre again, the ballerina
and all the left over coffee cups –
how a day melts into some night
how the seasoning changes the girl into the woman.
Sweet lady in the arms of a lover now, English maybe
At nine singing by the window-
of floating lights and dead highways,
dancing fingers and toes
a rime of murmuring passer by
By ten smoking in the silverware-
disgusting the lover’s performance
no love, no love in the sapphire jewellery
Around one in black stiletto, walks the house
behind with yet another moaning
and a body designed to shine.