On a damp afternoon;
When breaking for lunch;
You're surrounded;
By living works of art;
In tight t-shirts;
And clinging slacks;
Clothes that don't conceal;
So much as advertise;
Faces over-painted;
Seeming to be smiling golems;
Of stone made flesh;
By some lonely alchemist;
Jet and gold;
Jade and ivory;
Intricate decorations to wear;
Lovely creatures that promise;
Pleasures unbelievable;
But whose very beauty;
Makes things hard;
For one who is looking;
For more than something;
That is only a pretty package;
And would probably;
Look down towards you;
With a heartless laugh;
Or patronizing, false-affection;
As an unstylish naive;
In your shapeless leather hat;
And battered green overcoat.