Regal Fiction

Everyone’s gone home
outside is dark
only the mannequin’s there
perhaps a wee sparrow
perched on a barrow
a morsal of bread he can share

The lights in the street
kind of flicker
as a Westerly wind
starts to blow
and a half eaten
pizza rolls over a bridge
and drops into a street
down below

a burlglar alarm goes
off up the road
a rat scampers over a drain
2 of the Mannequin’s it
seems their time
its there time to get up again.

But Mannequins are made of plastic
or plaster
How can they possibly run?
and where would they go to
if say they could
wouldn’t they crack up in the sun?

standing in shop windows
day after day
undressed and
dressed
part of some display
being gawped at
by strangers who fleetingly feel
They are just models
they are not real

M