Glass balloon
Floats sparkling in the angle of these five surfaces
Unreal, in relief
An obvious set-piece
Too ridiculous to concieve
From niave reclining
Lime-tinged eyes deciding
The constitution of right and exact
Spillin gliquid over paper
Achieves something
The misss brings back the whir and tick
The end light machine,
The banal, coma inducing
Predictable elements of solitude
At this hour
The misunderstandings and kisses
The blinks and the numbers
The film within film
Within the theatre of farce and absurd opportunity
That takes the weekend off.
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