Unpoem

Nothing to see here
Just a familiar face
beneath that beanie with 
the purple flower
Or stencilled in
lambent moonlight
slipping between
curtain folds 

Nothing to hear 
Apart from that old
answerphone message
promptly replaced with the
sensible one, and yet
On endless repeat 
In my head 
That older young voice
from the days before 
this younger old voice

Nothing special 
about those eyes that
smile from afar
And those fingertips
running through
rogue strands of grey
The snippet of a hum
between hair dryer blasts

This is all mundane 
And generic 
Not worthy
Of poetry

Trite and old,
this feeling 
of not being
alone, 

just like
all those other 
familiar strangers,

Carving initials in
tree bark

Throwing pebbles
at window panes

Cutting ears off
with razor blades

Strumming badly
tuned ukuleles

Not worth a detour,
this wide place in the road
Nor a dropped pin
or that brown 
touristy sign:
‘Turn left  
for the ruins 
of another fat
stressed halitotic
petty little man’

who was blessed 
nonetheless 
with an undeserved  
Superpower 

Elemental magic
to conjure up

Her face
on a billboard 
only he can see

in every song 
and every sunset