Broken lines dangle between
Vital voices at Waterloo.

Slick Rick on one end,
Skips and laughs-
Parading his mangled heart
On his crookedly stolen stick-

Draws circles with it
Around a blinking fire
That has risen,
Around some bush.

Olive sits firmly,
Scissors in hand,
Eyes shut, palms to the skies,
Though,
She skips and laughs sneakily,
Crying out, please, oh Popeye,
Save me!
Having slipped out of the bind,
Rick put her in.

6 Silver bunnies,
With empty pockets,
Sit, twitching
On gold mine expenses,
Looking for those who will come
With precious carrots,
Once word spreads of their
Glinting furs.