Peaches and Desire; the Glory of a Faded Photograph, the Pleasure of an Injured Ego

s c a t t e r e d
applause

like peacocks on show they
twirl

one two three four

on stage, handshake, smile for the camera

five six seven

...eight...

for a
moment

your heart stops
your eyes savour
your interst peaks

then

nine ten eleven twelve
number eight is gone

and already you
have begun

to forget because

fourteen is quite peachy.