Passport Renewal

A conscious smile is hard enough to pull

Off, but I did it, sort of pretty well,

For Snappy Snaps, where I once saw a dame

From Atalanta chat God with the Turk.


The screen is grey, the shirt is checked, the bars

Of black marking out rims, squares, teeth

Between the edges of that cheeky smile,

That smiling cheek that forswore dignity,

That looked as if it cared about Darfur


(Or Zimbabwe. More current). Eyes go ho

Ho ho, I am aware of this ridicule,

And I accept it, because I am British,

Microchipped in with civic mockery.


Turns out that doesn’t play out. Service with

A smile, but the citizen must stand

Taut and oppressed, looking just as he feels.


Take two. Cheaper. I see her hesitate,

My Slovenian handmaiden, and then,

She develops a fourfold look that could

Recruit for Zanu-PF. Even, should.