Georgetown, Washington DC

A serious youth reading Aristotle took the seat next to me at Plattsburgh, USA.
I didn’t sleep. Gave up trying sometime after Albany.
Dawn broke over the hills of Upstate New York.
Soon after the forest gave way to a bricolage of
Brands, motorway and marsh. Somewhere off the New
Jersey turnpike my second deer approached a motorway verge,
Dallied there, hesitant, before the bus thunder roll. Big Apple
Crunched the six am skyline with now customary panache.

Washington, envisaged as a second Vatican City,
Fails to live upto the billing. No sign of intrigue. A White House
Set flush to its public. Police on pushbikes sequester the rear
For thirty minutes max to release a presidential motorcade.
Annoying middle aged staffers, who’ve picked the wrong wing to park.
Sharpshooters then retreat from the roof, the road returns to its people.
Scout patrols pose at the railings whilst a gardener mows the lawn.

Only the colour divide seems to disclose the immediate facts of power.
The bus station thronged with huckster jive and ten blocks west the centre
Appropriated by white men in pressed shirts. Doors held open by minority
Labour so the players can cruise straight through. No-one seems too
Concerned. It’s super-hot. The push-bike police wear tattoos and bandanas.
I take a swim with my friend. One hour later we watch him talking to millions.
About Syrians killed on their border by allied forces, hunting Saddam.


23.06