There are night flocks of them
A country of momentary colonies
Heads upturned
Like satellite dishes
Listening for aliens
The occasional couple
All knot of arms and scarves
Dodge comet-ribbons of ash
How many are thinking,
"I could pen a few lines to all this.
How many are thinking,
"If I was a terrorist
This is when I'd strike.
How many have brought their dogs
Or left their cats outside
How many can we catch
Whispering, "Swoosh
Bababa
Twinklyblam.
