LAST CHANCE TO SURVIVE
I'm taking it and I'm walking it; the
highway of no end beckons. A jade
automobile is hiding, and the milkman
delivers flowers. The schoolkids are
running, away, from something, when
they should be heading in. The old
power station has fallen in on itself,
and now windmills dot the coastline.
Twins hands are the lighthouse beacons
and the lady with the tattooe'd hair is
taking tickets at the open booth.
-
There's a newsbox at the ticker-tape
and from it a headline screams : the
magic mister of moment today is
taking our money away? How can
that be, I yawn, and keep walking.
I get so weary of power-dames and
weak-kneed men, together, praying.
'Give me that loaf of bread' - a masked
men says that to the old woman, as
he puts the gun to her head. I want
to intercede, maybe, but it's already
too late. I can see the look of death
in her wild, elderly eyes. Last
chance to survive?
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