I have my own film crew
Who appear the minute I wake up
They trot with me down avenues and
Film me trying to ask for more gravy
At Monsieur Poulet’s ‘Stop & Shop’
They tape me burning portly mushrooms
On my one hot plate
They watch me brush my coffee teeth
With the only toothbrush in the glass
They stick boom mikes in my face
While I lounge by park fountains
To catch my opinions on life
And art
And how to get jam stains off blankets
They follow me into changing rooms and
Under beds where sweet wrappers live
Complimenting me on my choice of pyjamas
Laughing at my moon walk
The director always tells me
How brave I am to take a risk
And live with no job
No words
No people
I smile wisely, grateful he has recognised
My superior insight
But when I make my excuses and
Go to the bathroom
There is just me
Sitting on the toilet
Wondering when my real life will start.