Clouded vision

Clouded vision

Filthy, my shop window.
I can’t see out,
no-one can see in.
No wonder I’m doing
no business.
It’s that polluted air
out there that’s to blame.

Call the window cleaner,
he’ll do the trick.
That’s him I can hear
clanking about outside.
Ladders, cloths, pails,
clean water to wash away
all that muck.

He’s done, departed.
But look, I still can’t see out,
still nobody can see
what’s on offer in here.
Oh, what I can now see
is that there’s grime
on this side of the glass, too.