The Fugue

Walking down the street on a warm summer afternoon

The sun made the trees shine bright

The Devil's face in every shop window, pale as the moon

Gave the day a sort of sickly light

Walking to a corner shop and looking through the door

A man behind the counter on a stool

Behind him was a row of jars of something in liqueur

And something like a painting of a ghoul

A visiter in some unearthly realm, I stood outside

Within the edifice of human thought