Shedding Surfaces

My skin has become tight
Geranium oil
Almond oil
twisting caps
and slippery arm slaps
but still the cells flake

I walk through the city centre
suited once again
a new skin
an interview, a time, a place
a price
wishing unattainable thoughts of freedom
I search
in and out of job shop windows
the sun beats
throws down flat shadows on pavements
hot and familiar

I struggle to understand my mood
how low it has fallen
and beneath
I am extremely dry
my enthusiasm has evaporated
oils are now disinterested
tight twisting cells

flake

flake

flake

interview door opens
receptionist surprised
pens click brushed back highlights
diaries checked
dates are wrong
pages zip shut
I smile
pretend it doesn’t matter
hint at the mistakes of others
leave

How out of sync have I become?
I can’t even turn up on time, on the right day
for jobs I do not want
blame pot and whiskey
blame peep shows and biased documentaries
try to re-engage with the day
have a kiss
a coffee
drop into closed photography exhibitions
speak to an artist about his show
don’t get involved with street fundraisers
they are nice people
two stop me
I’m easy
I’m distant, young and wearing a suit
there are no throngs of rush hour fuzz
to blend in behind
but they are nice people
they sense my loss
offer some advice
and then encourage me to sign on the dotted line
“yeah fuck sales jobs man...you can do something fantastic...just 28p a day”
irony
bad breath
multiple piercings
more emptiness drizzled over my cone
over my melting ice cream crust