He stares at you with eyes
empty of the human,
a blue that couldn’t be his.
Then his smile
drops to a clamped jaw.
He has something up his sleeve,
its invisible military press.
He talks a blue streak
(his nods in accompaniment)
of the coming revolution,
so many with so little to lose
a revolt needed but messy.
He likes Oregon
his kind of people.

Robert A. Davies has published in recent years largely online. He has been writing poems seriously since 1969. He has published Timber, Tracks in Oregon, Melons and Mendelssohn, and Bluff Hollow. He was co-editor of Mr. Cogito for about 20 years. He has recently appeared in Dissident Voice and Windfall He can be reached at: rjdavies3@comcast.net. Read other articles by Robert A..