Sabotage

Mirrored by his shadow
he walks among us

with doctrines of passionate sabotage
in a black backpack

crammed with the blues
of a kid who missed

our list of party people
when we—I guess—blinked

(and now he thinks our party
stinks like a cigar stub

stuck in the smirk
of a plutocrat baron

pissing on a mess
dropped from a towering penthouse)—

so he plots our crash
and maps our fall

and waits—and what
an enemy we’ve made

by blinking,
and forgetting to call!



.