The Mask

Remember, remember,
the fifth of November,
of gunpowder, treason and plot.
A moron thought it cool
(he was not taught in school)
to give me a mask that was not.

He gave me Guy Fawkes’ mask.
without pausing to ask
what anarchists all want to smash.
The mask was in style,
an anonymous smile,
and I tossed it right in the trash.

The fifth of November
did not kill each house member
as the malcontents tried hard to do.
I like law and order,
and a good warder,
and merrie olde England too.

Some fashions are dumb
and I’ll bite my thumb
at pop hipness ever so dense.
These masks stand for naught
since the bad guys were caught.
As icons they make zero sense.