Dark Rider collects the newspaper

wordsout by godfrey rust
Welcome To The Real World < 37 of 59 > < family >

On his blue mountain bike,
its white basket tied on with twine
he swoops across the campsite to his prey:

not Darth Vader this morning,
nor Floppy the Seal
nor a nine-year-old boy with a bad dream in
the night,

he sings through the walls of the mobile home
and talks relentless nonsense
hoping to throw us off the scent

of his plans for intergalactic supremacy
employing
space fighters made from Lego bricks
(powered mainly by carbon).

Taking a fifty franc note from the purse
he pays the scowling Frenchwoman
for two baguettes and yesterday’s Independent—

she is mercifully unaware of the existence
of the civilization of the Joedasmians
of which he is now the ruthless and absolute ruler.

For Joel Rust.