Petrified

Written by John Hintze and Alex Lyon

"Resting on magazines, celebrities

and the men in my future,

my mind turns to stone

and how better to lose them"

Or that's the way they think, at least.

He pays his fare and feeds his eyes

they fold lifeless on the seat; legs promising

everything, leading to nothing and maybe too thin

he smoothes his features, tabloid creased, triggers

another slender finger to touch stop

on brash redness squarely sat they trigger.

He gives his regards and gets off.

The customary coffee cupped at his chest

prepared by his host in white porcelain curves.

He asks her to spin for him - Brit pop trip hop – anything;

she finds some classic rock and drinks tea while he listens.

He looks then sees in the T.V. screen

himself reflected, his self serene,

he glances back across her table

and stares disgusted at the horror there,

then shows her the most feared of all faces

eyes rolled, teeth ground, lips writhing beneath spit

senseless she confronts the image she faces;

taking the mirror she drops it.

He looked at her and she melted before his eyes.

She returned his gaze: he froze, petrified.