Is sometimes decked in hard blue mettalic color
Rigged with gas canisters,plastic bullets and metal rails
It lines up nicely on the paves of the thing we call mind
That thing that is supposed to protect the heart.
It denounces and refuses any new one that would come in
Turns on sirens, calls for Mambas whenever another draws near.
It changes the rules that the heart started with
Lest in case the stupid thing makes a mistake
The heart can’t want what the heart wants
It has no skill for vision
So enforces the law with full force.
Maybe sometimes isn’t red, except for the tops,
Maybe it is green and black, and blue and grey
And white and khaki
Ready to squash any chance of a new one
To refuse any forgetting of the love that tormented.
Maybe those with ears hear.