I Go Out

Wearing one of Tom's preparéd faces,

checking for red-eye and lachrymate traces;

grief balled like a handkerchief in a pocket,

like a hidden curl in a silver locket.

I go out, I go out,

the great of the town are roundabout.

There is no need to step on the cracks,

cross to the other side of the tracks,

visit all and any calamities,

the nightmares are my reveries.

I go out, I go out,

the Devil and God will whisper and shout.

I pass a stranger, full of grace,

he nods and smiles, with my boyhood face.

I turn to look, but he is gone.

A hint that one should carry on.

I go out, I go out.

The wise and foolish allow no doubt.

Who is that girl who smiles at me?

I do not smile, so why should she?

They smile with teeth and flinty eyes.

I do believe the smiles are lies.

I go out, I go out

among the profane and still devout.