Prufrock knew about the face I’m looking for today

I had it on last week, or even yesterday and I must have put it away

somewhere

I can’t find it, it was cheerful, and quite clean, I’d washed it twice

It’s the one that I pull out when I want to appear nice.

I’ve looked in my handbag, but although my wallets there

the face I’m looking for just will not reappear…

It’s not something that I lend so no-one else has got it on

and in my wasteland of despair, I need this face to call upon

to impress the faces that I’ll meet

Upon those sad deserted streets

and so into the room I will come and go

are those my tears their melting backs upon the window pane?

All my indecision, would I, could I, ‘Do I dare’

put on my coat, turn up my collar

face them – faceless

this is my overwhelming question

impossible my nerves

I’ll walk upon the beach

I daren’t look back

My face, my face is out of reach.