V.85

The cold warriors are dying
Amongst events they slip away
like the crackle of a spray can
and its hiss which turns to a roar

The cold warriors are dying
The second movement of Dvorák
lingers in the musky swampland
of Florida, among torn flags

The cold warriors are dying
falling away one by sad one
like mist withdrawing from windows
leaving thin dilemmas for drips

The cold warriors are dying
their children are melancholy
unsure quite what this means to them,
despite, of course, a soft fizzing

The cold warriors are dying
for arguments cannot outlast.
The eyes of history open
and see streaming neon glazes

The cold warriors are dying
gears that have not turned for long years
shift and let off streams of gold rust
Things are glowing with potential

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