GOOD MORNING JAMES BOND * by Flick Ruby

The body tenses, freezes and looks up,
Something buzzes in the distance,
chopping the concentration,
interrupting the moment,
piercing the angle that intersects with the pitch unbearable,
like a mosquito in the night.
The desire to slap one's own face,
crosses the mind,
as it crosses the sky,
to break the vibration of my soul.
The message is fear, 'We're up here again'.
Are there really that many escapees in Melbourne?
Does somebody with they were back in Vietnam?
How many people visit there again
at the sound of surveillance?
How many hungry people look up
watching a four thousand dollar morning scream by?
Is there an instrument to record the wave
that moves the seed closer to the surface?
"We can see you, we interrupt your day,
your contemplation of the universe
to tell you...
We're in it."
