Meet the Folks

Mostly rubbed if not ghastly operative C
            drove a kart, stood tall,
            though borders shove
            head in a bucket:
breath of its free shaping densifies
                        funds pittance furl
but saucer-like, trampled, zero character,

so cup-&-saucer-like is their pause mode,
queuing obediently
deniable orders
taken from the stars of the southern sky.
human hearts pumping under smooth
frictionless, mid-tempo
head in its dunce hood,
            lacked impetus, too tractable
spread out drying silvery skins,
an installation,
punitive space of pending gave ground:

organs slopped at the base of Coatepec,
advanced systems failed.
So ask it, why should you deny yourself,
C took leave, deployed,
perusing mute tracks —
            a charge on them all
            rags on scaffold
fluttered equally warning & significant
Democracies tuck you in & blow you out.

Then he stepped on it, he put his foot
            down, the colours mount
            throughout initialisation
            phase, quit blinking:
cloaked, by stealth, he went for it, basket
& fair face, loved with vivid graze;
                        once in place
a master take is conscientiously damaged.