At the convention Mr and Mrs Big arrive
with an all too obvious love of the crowd.
It’s Current Affairs:
Maria turns over to Perfect Match.
She loves the way the big compere
squeezes the fruits of youth
gambling on voices without faces.
After the field trek the regional auditor
surveys the mud surround
sticking to his feet like
pure hard work. So much to have paid off
this one TV village, when totem-breakers
borne of jet-plane take refuge here.
I carry tissues through the tearful ghetto,
a knife and a wallet filled with
Abraham Lincoln’s picture and the eye of God
shining in a pyramid. Some say that’s
a perfect match. Older and wiser
the go-betweens stick to their old drug
poker, leaving Maria with the state’s sole channel
and three possible lovers.
© Adam Aitken