Wear On The Same Gargoyle Face

In the corner of a shop doorway Did I see the canvas of life? Preening itself with claws, tightly, frappe. Feet wrapt in dead, wildlife: One nonchalantly, above the other Eyes open, neck stretched: Was he her mate, her one-time lover? His bill open-hangs retched In the frozen last gasps of demise. Atop not the least bothered, Looks completely happy to comprise; The world hers at last deferred. Out here the cities, mock their waste. Whilst two girls take photos of a Homeless drunk drooling abase These girls laughing at the screenplay Wear on the same gargoyle face.