My sky ark rumbles
through the parting cloudbank
dropping parachute bombs
through a trapdoor in the timber hull
and playing ragtime
through several banks of loudspeakers,
overlaid by invocations
to various minor interventionist deities
and shoutouts.
'You, Deborah Nesmith! Who continued to park
in my spot after a polite note
tucked under your windscreen wiper!
You, Horace Golightly! Sprinkling Trill
in my hair during the test match
and believing I would not notice!
You, Lincoln Coops! Who built several effigies
of me in Lego then kicked them in,
laughing all the while, well
who's laughing now you bastard,'
roofs exploding, etc, etc.
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