A John LeCarre’ Novel

The brick walls of the houses along the street
Are always centuries-damp in the dim streetlights
Flickering yellow past the garbage cans
And is that sound - water dripping? Footsteps?

She was to meet him in the shadows of
A shuttered plywood newspaper kiosk
That tiny red spark over there – it moves
But she doesn’t smoke. And she’s very cautious

A scream. A shot. A cat. A light. A voice,

A very soft voice:

“Mustn’t be found here, old boy.  Need a lift?”

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

          A Government of Merovingians, by Merovingians,
                                and for Merovingians

          John LeCarre’ asks what you owe to your country when
                                   you no longer recognize it.

                                  -cover blurb, Silverview

Inadequate klansies in gas-station shades
Bullhornistas polluting the civic peace
Q-Anonsters lurking behind their screens
Purported patriots hiding behind their masks

Doxers sneaking and spying like Milton’s Satan
Gollums clutching their “My Precious!” black rifles
Censors memory-holing literature and art
Anti-Communists Communisting our lives

Drug gangs and firebombs, looters and spies:
This is a nation no one can recognize