Red tie like a blood stain down his front,
Around his neck,
A beckoning smile splits a weathered scape,
Stretching cheekskin.
He suits his suit like a trumpet shoot
With the dogs running and running on ahead,
Creating mimics of his tie
On orange and white,
Fading light
And protest fight that
Fades to this:
Made shapes
Mean plates
Fill serves
The undeserving
Multicrowd
And their loud blank party frocks
And fancy dress with fancy words
To explain it all all away.