in your dreams
it soft washed your tears
as your weeping came clean
i was there,
when the glass ceiling fell apart
when the hack surgeon,
removed your aching heart

maybe now,
you feel the bronze tan
and it makes you the man
maybe foreign holidays
are paradise in the sand

that place where –
i look them in the eye
not this bent squint
and this lazy goodbye
not this endless runway
lit by my lazy eye

you let friends trickle
down the canvas of your life
as you painted in a style so fickle
you reinvented yourself as a pastel wife