They are here to save the world,
Lovers happy in their charity clothes,
Hair pinned casually as control,
To keep the clear view ahead,
They have all the basic needs,
Food and water and each other,
And that perhaps was me,
With all my empty counterculture,
Forever concealed in depths,
A minefield to catch invaders,
Passing the outer nets to harbours,
Where the battleships are moored,
Grey and stately, massive engineering,
Defining the situation with arms,
And meaning nothing.
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