Man On the Street

Iím shrink-wrapped
in my own skin, packed tight
as tuna in a tin.

If you cut me
I would seep
like sap on a tree trunk.

No one would weep if I went
from here, not one would miss me.
No one to cuddle or kiss me.
Donít worry. Sleep tight.
I'll be alright.

Tony Mckeown

If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Tony Mckeown  would be pleased to hear them