Sergeant Pepper, you are military and musical,
Dolled up in nickel, brass, ribbon, merit badges,
Pageant sash. We admire your regalia, the blinding
Sheen of your baton and trombone, the momentum
Of your small, broad-shouldered body leading us,
The crowd, onward, onward, onward, a jockey
Pitched forward as we stomp across the land,
High-stepping, angling over the earth like
Notes blackening an orchestral score, agitato,
The tempo that generates riots, mobs, stampedes.
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