Thursday, 18 July 2013

wax sax man

-is his heart still beating?- 
he's always there, 
on that same bench sleeping
I wonder what's keeping
him from opening his eyes? 
maybe he's not human
he sort of looks like 
he's made of wax
beside him, his old suitcase
on his lap, his rusty sax
sometimes I want to poke him
to find out the truth
is he a living human? 
-or simply uncouth-
but poking a wax sax sleeping dummy
is a pretty dumb-y 
thing to do, he might open his eyes
and yelp something weird like Boo!
and scared I'd go running, 
and amused, he'd think it's funny
and maybe just laugh
I'd be glad then, that he can
laugh that is, 
maybe he is, some kind of
modern Boo Radly,
sadly, I think it will remain
one of life's mysteries
-never to know/ if wax man will show-
his true nature