goal and its accessaries
james colin
Alone atop a barbed wire fence,
the escapist flaunts his balance.
He takes his time.
His poise distracts the markamen.
A car waits, its engine rumbles
with words. The driver reacts to every
sound with fist-clenched glee.
The escapist jumps and rolls
in a ball of elastic bangs and string.
The marksmen miss.
The car roars down the city road.
The escapist's cackling laugh
reminds the driver of loose fan belts
and female malcontents.
The tourists in the trunk
feel for their package brochures.
A fat lady sparks a light.
Underlined in red are hideout and soliloquy.
