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
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.