Crisp and new, lines of a green puddle jacket
Nightwear for the faceless
Utility haircut
Clutching a black weapon
Standard issue (clogs in the sand?)
Stone faces monolithing down dirt tracks
Passing like chess pieces
(You can buy them in the park;
their allegiance for one shot
at victory)
No Tommy, no John, no Joe
and,
No need for Polly Oliver.
Until:
We will make them our slaves,
They say.
No more the Polly Oliver.














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