Some were born clever.
You know them –
those upright, dripping
quipping monsters
who can drag
whole rural territories,
forgotten capital cities,
hamlets full of hapless
Hamlets behind them
in their wake.

And their breath smells of
confidence and confusion.
Their stare trembles hearts
but lasts less than
we were promised.
Their intentions are clear
but only in retrospect.
Their promises are always kept.

Their latest pictures appear
with those blurry figures
standing behind them,
figures we recall from
childhood, figures who
kept us up most of the night
praying they would go away
and leave us to the simple pleasure
of just being left alone.