You with your radical innocence
did not ask for this daily display
of stupidity and error
this war that is not really a war –
our conscience has been privatized.
We have replaced the old terror
with a new state of anxiety.
our words have lost their power
through the currency of lies.
We have been infantilised.
Here, we are remote from the horror.
You love your silver scooter.
I follow you carefully to the shops
Your eyes as dark as the deepest pools
draw mine from the pavement and road
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