In your face...mate

In Your Face…mate.


Moonlight becomes me,
guided by it pianissimo
I find my way home from
the den of illusions,
and hurt laughter.
In a rain puddle, where
the road is uneven,
see my aged face, looking
young as a Greek god’s,
on my head I wear
a shiny helmet;
till a car comes along and
splashes the picture of
self delusion into drops of mud