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the waiter.

  

He’s here again, behind the net curtains,

tap, tap, tapping on the window.

I’d better let him in, or he’ll only push down the door,

like he did before.

In he crawls & waits as I settle my old bones back down again,

his brown leather skin naked makes me shudder

and his vile stench fills the room

as he nibbles his sharp little teeth on my old ankles

and I try to ignore him & watch TV.

Then, as if from a dream, I glance down & realise that he’s gone again,

just gone,

disappeared.

 

She’s here again, behind the net curtains,

tap, tap, tapping on the window.

Her says these bed sores are beginning to smell,

and Dr. Meadows says these pills are too strong.

Well, all I know is, there’s blood on the carpet and a shadow

behind the net curtains & he’ll be back again,

same time tomorrow.