NICE NORTON

nice norton at the airport

waiting for the next cab

writes a letter in the back of a book

holding the pen like a furious crab

he rears his head to take a quick look

no cab nothing of the sort

nice norton waits on a chair

a little smaller than his frame

scratches his ear with the index finger

to hear someone calling his name

no voice comes and silence lingers

today is sunday

and all the employees are dead

so let norton sleep at the lobby

maybe someday

he will find a brand new bed

and discover that waiting is a peculiar hobby

nice norton at the resting room

doesn´t know that man in the mirror

that grey beard wasn´t there two days ago

but all those lights make them see clearer

suddenly he felt like those sad people at the morning show

nice norton on the cctv

making meaningless moves and faces

crazy little clown from a distant town

gather rubbish from different places

as his strange world turns upside down