What defines us is the minus
and we're on a sliding scale,
some will rise above it all
(Kilroy on the garden wall)
some will sink into oblivion
which leaves the rest to
carry on.

Mindlessly
we sit and stare
bearing in mind
we may not be there,
but someone is.

This is like a rummage sale
searching through
the baggage of the lost
upon the lonely trail and
when memories fail,
there's always
the 'filofax'
for when we have those
nineteen twenty one
attacks
yes
it's that old and you were
thinking
the eighties surely.