The competition (3.14)

You’re a winner, with all your weapons and brands

The sliding-doors had closed, deleting any prospects of an opportunity

You stand, below that sky-scraper on a misty morning

Up there someone sits - high and dry - loading up his or her ammunition

His ammunition of led, her ammunition of wool

Not together but entirely alone, in their own room, in their own loft

He came up on is own and comes down on is own

When he does he’ll take from us that which he never got

His bullets will rain, on anyone with love

Then his life which was not a life to begin, will be complete

She will stay up, still on her own

Her bullets fall - as if it was snow - and children will play before they go home