A Cloud of Smoke

When you walk into the crowded café

You think that everyone notices you

That their heart rate increases a little

That they feel a small stirring down below

That women want you, men to be you

You always expect that there will be a

Table waiting for you and your partner

Be it girlfriend or a business colleague

What lies beneath this confident surface?

Is it just a veneer, a cloud of smoke?

Is there perhaps a frightened little boy

Quaking in his wardrobe, wet pyjamas?

Hoping that dad won't find him before mum?

His voice filling the ether 'Be a man'

Her voice softly whispering 'Don't worry'

'A young man standing in his own shadow' - Giant Glove