The face of an eighties screen god
Lately gone to seed
Proclaiming his perseverance
Propelled by a pressing need
To find his image one more time
Promoted to the heights
And finally be recognised
Back where he spends his nights
He sighs and sips his coffee
His shades kept on inside
In hopes of being spotted
By more than spousal pride
But doomed to disappointment
No autographs are sought
He finishes his drink in silence
Of a pregnant sort
And slipping past his escort
He slouches off to pee
Still unacknowledged by the crowds
That queue to buy their tea
He passes by the waitress
With no more than a wink
She fancies he’s expressed his thanks
For more than just the drink