You, with your upsidedown smile,
and your map of the Nile,
walking single file.
You, with your back issues of Tweet,
two left at home feet,
and piercing discreet.
You, with your potato print,
lack-lustre tint,
and broken-leg splint.
No, not you!
The person next to you
in the queue
at the Suzy-Q.
Yes, you!
You’ve dropped your snooker cue.