Outside In

That person who stepped into my skin this morning
Took me by surprise because he didn't quite fit
And wriggled around a bit to get his fingers in

He had an orange for breakfast
Which he carefully peeled, squished out the pips
Leaving the segments, which he flicked away

Then at eight thirty, when I usually go
He opened the door and the outside came in
Switched on the telly and made itself at home

The bus we caught at a quarter to
Didn't turn up. Another one arrived in its place
And he was driving, but with the driver's face

He arranged reflections on the ground
With puddles outside them, and trod in dog poo
When he could have used the pavement

When I sat on the loo he whispered to me
"I'm from a place with useless circles
Where pi is exactly five, and maths is easy"

I was uncomfortable all that day
He said what I thought, and what I said
He didn't say.