The barber's mirror makes me want to hide
As we look at each other, warily
Today's me and the thin man inside
We ressemble each other scarily
Certainly, we share the same skin
He studies with dispassionate eyes
The rumpled shirt, the folds around the chin
This is it mate; your new disguise
Part of me would like to walk out as him
My mind with a new body – oh wow!
But I am lazy. I'd have to join a gym
Probably, it's too late for that now
Anyway, I would have to lose my history
Experience; the years that thickened me
1 comment:
"...when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides".
Let Me Die A Youngman's Death - Poem by Roger McGough
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/let-me-die-a-youngman-s-death/
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