This morning
  being rather young and foolish
  I borrowed a machine gun my father
  had left hidden since the war, went out,
  and eliminated a number of small enemies.
  Since then I have not returned home.

This morning
  swarms of police with tracker dogs
  wander about the city with my description
  printed on their minds, asking:
  ‘Have you seen him,
  He is seven years old,
  likes Pluto, Mighty Mouse
  and Biffo the Bear,
  have you seen him, anywhere?’

This morning
  sitting alone in a strange playground
  muttering You’ve blundered You’ve blundered
  over and over to myself
  I work my next move
  but cannot move;
  the tracker dogs will sniff me out,
  they have my lollipops.

(Ed: I read this poem out to members of the Wardown Park Poetry Group)