a childish whitewashed mockery of you
still in part remains daubed
on a back alley wall of our crumbling soon to be demolished street
but has been subjected to disfigurement
flake by falling distemper flake
strangely turning it into an abstract
I can only describe as resembling the likes of
an aciddently weatherbeaten Picasso
as if part of the face has been included
in a brickwork collage
that you can touch while having to endure
the pungency of cat piss on the tips of your fingers
trailed down from everyday feline perches above.
Or is it something else?
a reminder that you and I are also not our original selves
having been subjected to times disfigurement
year by falling colour failing year.