Modified vehicle, Siren’s tune,
A waveless estate long-lurking through;
Like whitetip sharks in a shipwreck’s stew,
You feel the bite before it’s due.
His sign declared with wide misspellings
That a Key Worker here is ice-cream selling;
Maranhão has unabated rainforest felling,
But when was truth for political telling?
In a dream this vendor was steaming sharks,
Teeth and fins, these delicate parts;
The children ate and sang in the park,
His menu made from pictographs.
I told you before of men who defraud
In times of crisis at home and abroad,
This world is not what they purport;
Which governments would Gods of Goodness support?
Downstream I heard he was arrested,
Moustachioed vendor van-grease vested;
The parents with placards well protested,
But the shark-forests died, left unprotected.