A Flaneur’s Diary

The Man in the paper-thin disguise
squandered his spare change
on a slice of evening sunshine;
His coffee grew warm in a cup
on the counter where the clientelle
had filled their quota of ashtrays;
Watches told lies and nearby clocks
by their exaggeration confirmed
to the wearers the vacuity of time;
There were rumours of Officials
refusing to take bribes from those
who wanted to flatten the city,
whilst eagle eyed reporters
kept their pencil stubs blunt;
He knew Phones were hung up
before they rang and
what callers said over them
didn’t break the silence;
Ottoman ghosts were seen
before the gates of Vienna,
whilst amongst its tourists
a zither played a lament
for a man who had disappeared;
though his eyes gazed back at him
from the barbershop mirror,
he knew he wasn’t Harry Lime.