WALLASEY TOWN HALL HOSTS Mr BENN

GOOD TO SEE SO MANY MICROPHONES

PLACED IN THE AISLE.

TO SEE A FULL HOUSE READY TO HOST THE HOST,

TO SEE FLOWERS FRESHLY PLACED

IN THE CAVERNOUS MARBLE MOUTH

OF THE LAST BASTION OF CIVIC PRIDE,

AND MR.BENN’S SIMPLE GLASS OF WATER

AND THERMOS ON A SOLID WOODEN TABLE.


WELL-HEELED, WELL-DRESSED, WELL SPOKEN

COME HIS AUDIENCE,

PEOPLE OF THE LAST GENERATION OF IDEAS

WHO HAVE LEFT THEIR MOBILES AT HOME.


TAPE RECORDER IN HAND HE CLIMBS

THE WOODEN STAIRS,

THE HEAD MASTER SCHOOL BOY

WITH GREY FLANNEL PANTS.


BEADY-EYED WITH HOPE, HIS HANDS DELVE

INTO PURPOSE ,

HIS FINGERS TENT IN HOPE,

HIS PALMS FLATTEN OUT DOUBT,

HIS SHOULDERS SHRUG OFF INDIFFERENCE,

HIS ARMS WAVE AWAY HYPOCRISY

LIKE AN UMPIRE DECLARING

A BOUNDARY..


A CLOUD OF PIPE-TOBACCO LINGERS

AS HE EXITS, STAGE LEFT.