(a poem collected from Facebook)
Everyone wants to be Cary Grant,
it can be hard to keep in the public
consciousness, but the bar has been raised.
He plays with hiding or revealing the eyes or face
to leave only the feminine form, this sense
of not being able to hold everything together
in the big seat at Tesco, it is the very first
flower to bloom in space. Take a detox bath,
my brave little soldier. Even I want to be Cary Grant.