They praised the rucksack Lotharios,
glimpsing them through the mask.
It's said you can tell a lot from the eyes.
You can if you have to.
If that's the full display, all but for the stringy hair and knobby forearms -
when it's the full picture - searching soul-windows becomes a superpower.
But the masked men clocked in on smuggler runs - hauling cataclysmic utopian brainstorm.
People loved it until they hated it.
Then the tunnel junkies were cut loose,
their magnetism depleted.
This entry was posted in poem, Poetry and tagged poem, poetry by B Gourley. Bookmark the permalink.
