INVISIBLE AUDIENCE

There's a woman
or should I say lady,
in her fifties
circle face
roundish body
normalish clothes
eastern europeany
respectable

She's got like
an official identification
label
on a chain round her neck
sheaf of notes in her hand

I first came across her
in Guildhall Square,
there she was
standing between
the mobile cafe
and the statue of Charles Dickens
talking away
to nobody

To nobody!
strange
I approached
and realised she was in fact
speaking like a tour guide.
I mean she was clearly
informing an invisible audience
of a number of pertinent facts
about something or other

I stumbled past her again yesterday,
she was outside the endlessly
in-a-state of restoration
Theatre Royal,
engrossed and absorbed
in the job of earnestly
imparting her knowledge
to
a non-existent tour-group

I did the same as before,
stopped
near enough to hear what she's saying
but not near enough to be noticed by her,
as there is something undeniably
creepy about her performance,
she stumbles at times,
hurriedly consults her notes,
her english is not perfect,
damn
I can never quite make out what
she's saying

Of course
she sort of realises I'm there,
but doesn't quite react,
I'm half tempted to go right up to her
look her in the eyes and listen,
make her fantasy a reality
become an audience,
but
I don't.
Like I say
it's all  just y'know
a little bit too odd