I ran from the embassy
In studied panic
Let myself be followed
By mustachioed Hispanics
Found the trap door at the dead end
Left communiques for Mr. Grieves
To divert his steady gaze
And then I vanished through a duct
Into the night
And now I'm having fits and starts
I'm sweating in my anonymity
I'm drinking tea with ice
That doesn't cool me down
I've got whiplash from sitting still
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