Warning Signs

The bank sign blinks its message late at night, two types of information for the indolent, the traffic light is cycling, though there's not a car in sight, alarm clocks disinter the drugged and somnolent. Newspaper delivery is the only game in town, 'til early morning merchants raise their blinds, dogs are let out, leashed, and led to do what they must do, first shoppers disregard the warning signs. Men in trench coats congregate on corners, they speak into their sleeves in muffled tones, in grey fedoras, all dressed up for secrecy and stealth; they question early birds about their loans, political affiliations, clubs, and weapons owned, they formulate a blueprint of your life; what you thought was private isn't private any more, they follow you, ask questions of your wife. Two weeks ago John Dixon disappeared without a trace, the authorities had nothing to declare, Jim Dean and Charlie Watson were imprisoned in disgrace, their families are shocked and in despair. The net is growing wider and the fear is closing in, what happened to the notion that we're free? their numbers are increasing and the hour is getting late, yesterday at ten they came for me.