hachete's Journal: Judgement

Forensics are here for you
labelling everything in their path,
weaponisation of sealable plastic bags.
Just what were you doing that moonlight night?
Stray radio voices from France Inter emerge
the cat's miaow. Mpegs scattered across soft landings.
I suppose you could expose a few dodgy workmen
on the scam, a quick buck. The gain? Some purity,
I suppose, styro-foam pleasures after the money-men from Sue, Grabbit and Run
have stripped Bugs of any quirks but his signature
"what's up Doc?" What's up? A short walk up the stairs
to the tall scaffolding by the tall grinning shadows. Look down at your right-hand sleeve,
look closer, a thread trails an addendum with very small serif typeface.