I keep seeing a flat guy who looks like a mural
but he moves away quickly whenever I glance.
He’s a person in 2D, a pancake-like monkey,
a plane of a character, ghostly cartoon.
You could call him a doodle on a smooth piece of paper;
it’s like he’s been ironed and left in the frost.
I glimpse him in mirrors, from glass in shop windows
and other folk’s spectacles, catching me out.