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"Show initiative"
you ballyhoo,
like a rapist politician
howling patriotism.

"We do not carry passengers"
you accuse.
Good---
when do you resign?

I see you,
sitting back,
smug,
porridge-eyed,

and you'll never admit
that the rocket you sought
said "Brockwell's"
not "NASA".

So now it goes up,
a lone flame,
a dark night.
That's orbit?

And when it crashes
on the bottom line,
will it be the cleaner's fault
for washing out the tea-leaves?

Will it be the receptionist
for picking up the banker's call?
But, no, not you---
never in a million egos.


interpretation
from walkful thoughts

image: poem

88-89

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