Out of Order

In the Freud Museum

At Berggasse 19,

The loo (where perhaps the great man had sat)

Was out of order.

What had he thought, I wondered,

As he pondered

On life.

In the consulting room,

A woman was talking loudly;

I studied photographs

Which I no longer remember,

Even under the influence

Of ink.

I thought of das Sofa,

That famous couch,

Far away in Hampstead;

How I'd kept watch

While you took a photo

On the quiet.

It’d felt eerie

Like watching the dead,

Or them watching us,

Which is much the same thing,

I imagine.

Leaving, I felt none the wiser,

Stepping out

Onto a damp Vienna street,

To find life waiting

Almost where I'd left it.