Cloaks and dagger,
We all know the ritual.
Hidden radio transmissions,
Downed Allied pilots
Hidden in haystacks and lofts,
Learned from Saturday movies.
Ditching the surveillance.
We’d be good at it if given a chance.
Attentive to people that appear
By accident in your life.
Figuring out what society dames
Play with high-ranking Nazis.
We could drink champagne and eat caviar
With the enemy, smiling as our minds photographed
The guest list, watched who was talking, walking
And leaving together
Aware that our best friend,
Our closest confidant might be a traitor,
A spy on the other side.
We’d be careful.
In fact, we’d be great at it if given a chance.
Fast car chases, eluding the police,
Leaving notes and film in secret places
You were told about only minutes before the car arrived,
Or the plane, taking you to a conference that is a cover
For the entire underground.
You will ask for Pierre. You’ve never seen him.
He walks with a limp.
Get it wrong and you are caught,
Then tortured by the Gestapo.
But you never get it wrong.
As a matter of fact,
We’d be smashingly good at it.
That is, if we only got the chance.