Nine

A floppy brown hat and pale blond hair,
Nothing else left sitting there,
A shadow of himself, a nuisance of image,
Mimesis and Diegesis on the faces of the

Bright young thing that walked in the door,
Feeling a compulsion to put four / to the ceiling

A mixed metaphor on the face
Of a young man doing what he was told
And only resists because  it is what he was told
By those he doesn't listen to. 

The End

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