THE ARRIVAL OF A NEW BOX OF WHITE:
People step out from between parked cars as I drive into town,
Snipers lie in wait,
Mothers hold the hands of tiny children,
With perfect replica faces,
Trusting everything will be ok,
Pull them between parked metal,
And rubber,
Smell the fossil fuel,
Do as I say,
Not as I do,
Learn to bend the rules
(K)
Little routes for September.