Please direct my publicist
To the exit door
In the cold clear night
Deep breath
Miss ya’
Have I lost the Midas touch?
What’s the deal?
Are you there?
Can you see there’s no-one here?
Damn
There’s really no-one here!
The delusions ooze away
Nothing to say
Until I write a new poem
Would you read it
If it were from another man?
Please direct my soul
To my publicist
Or my spokesperson
Red Tape
What’s the deal?