Poetry

Like Smoke

John Whitworth

Like smoke from an abandoned cigarette,
Your hopes have evanesced without a trace:
The interviews you wish you could forget,
The charms that failed to woo the populace,
The speech that brought disaster and disgrace,
The reasoned argument that came to blows,
Cross-filed and referenced on a database.
I know a man who knows a man who knows

The tabloid hell-hounds pant to make you bleed.
They’ll sink their teeth in now they’re on your case:
The speed, the shit, the whisky and the weed,
The rumours no-one tells you to your face,
The Roman orgy and the gay embrace,
Your preference for a skirt and pantihose,
Red lights, blue films, white powders and black lace.
I know a man who knows a man who knows.

The qualities you need you haven’t got;
There’s nothing for you here or any place.
Your tawdry tale’s been told, your bolt’s been shot,
You’ve lost a reputation and the race.
Hares that you started couldn’t stand the pace,
Schemes that you hatched went down like dominoes,
The game’s played out and lost, they’ve trumped your ace,
I know a man who knows a man who knows

Prince, now you’re damaged goods and waste of space.
Trust me, I understand the way it goes.
Some things no re-invention can efface.
I know a man who knows a man who knows