New Poetry by David Dumouriez

I saw this bloke at the bus stop who 

I saw this bloke at the bus stop

who looked like Warren Oates.

Collar-heavy shirt in powder blue,

hair slight and crossing east-to-west,

and not the closest kinship with his razor.

But it was the shades -

retro, brown, too big -

that magicked up the era.

Didn’t hear him laugh - that would

have been the clincher - but he’d not

have been disgraced beside a Fonda,

Jack, or Hopper. Quite what the value is 

to be a Warren Number Two, don’t know.

For it’s not the look that makes the man,

but the man that makes the look.

Warren.

     In the graveyard.

                With a head.

A battered Prince of Seediness, undead.

- © David Dumouriez 2022

David Dumouriez once won a poetry competition by accident and the memory of it still haunts him. His hobbies include cricket, horology, and finding new ways to avoid talking about himself.