Monday, 4th November 1996
Blind, white, in tunnel darkness they parade
In New York City's festerance of sewers.
Now feasting, marching; those taken away
From Florida, from swamps in Everglade
And sold as "next new things" to faddish Pops
And given to the kids, given to play,
Then tired of. But a new water game lures
The kids to dangle over toilet tops
Their baby alligators. Flushed, and down
To feed on waste and grow fat on dead things
That float around. To march, and swim, and eat.
So don't play by the outlet pipe; don't clown
Around by manholes, else end up a treat
For New York's blind white alligator kings.
B (in under 9 minutes)
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