I’ve got my cap pulled way down low
and my sunglasses shield my face
I’ve scraped my hair into a tight chignon
Not a loose tendril out of place
I am so incredibly incognito
I barely recognise myself at all
Such a simple disguise deftly donned
Surely ASIO will give me a call
I walk by a bus stop shelter
and see my reflection in its glass
I give myself a deliberately shifty look
and then an elaborate wink as I pass
I could be anyone right now
The Saint or someone of that ilk
And then I ask myself “what is with you?
You’re just going to the shop for some milk!”
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