WordsOut poems by Godfrey
Rust | collection Welcome
To The
Real World ← 37
of 59 → | home
Dark Rider collects the newspaper
On his
blue mountain bike,
its white basket tied on with twine
he swoops across the campsite to his prey:
not Darth
Vader this morning,
nor Floppy the Seal
nor a nine-year-old boy with a bad dream in the night,
he sings
through the walls of the mobile home
and talks relentless nonsense
hoping to throw us off the scent
of his
plans for intergalactic supremacy employing
space fighters made from Lego bricks
(powered mainly by carbon).
Taking a
fifty franc note from the purse
he pays the scowling Frenchwoman
for two baguettes and yesterday’s Independent—
she is mercifully unaware of the existence
of the civilization of the Joedasmians
of which he is now the ruthless and absolute ruler.