If Bob Dylan were to step out
of an old Volvo
in the parking lot
at Willys in Boden,
he would just be an ordinary body,
an old man's body,
making his way
with some effort
over to the shopping carts,
pulling one free,
and disappearing
into the entrance hole
of the discount store

If Putin came stumbling along
with a walker
outside Biltema
at Storheden,
looking for
a cheap coffee
and an urgent piss,
he would just be
a small body,
gray and ugly,
utterly uninteresting,
among a soon-to-be-erased crowd
of old bastards
and old bitches.