Judgment

The karma police will come for you
labelling everything in their way.
This is forensics for the guilty path -
just what were you doing that moonlight night?
The stray radio voices from France Inter underline
the cat's miaow. Lift an eyelid and I suppose you can
expose the sale of dodgy tee-shirts or copied DVDs
or some cowboy builder charging just a bit more. Some purity,
I suppose, is left, cartoon pleasures after the money-men
have stripped Bugs of any quirks but his signature
“what's up Doc?” What's up? The short walk up the stairs
to the grey scaffolding. Look down at your right-hand sleeve,
look closer, a thread trails a label with very small sans-serif typeface.