You can say the words “World Peace”
and not sound completely ridiculous.
A freakin bird literally landed on your podium,
like you’re St. Francis of Assisi. I half thought
you’d start some Snow White vocalizations
and the little finch would trill right back:
part of your electorate, an interspecies dialectic
[I think it was a finch. I’m not an ornithologist.
People just don’t like it when you ask for precision].
The young fangirls might just whip out their hair
and the annointing oil right smack-dab in the middle
of the convention center, frankincense and myrrh
all over the injection mold chairs, a residue for years.
[okay, okay, but the comma splices are for rhetorical effect, yeah?]
Oh, and it was green. You were all like
“a dove would have been more de rigueur,”
but you couldn’t have been more wrong.
Green energy and dollars without blood on them.
If it were practical, a pox on both their houses
[red and blue]. She’s a queen piece pretending
to be the piece that can only move in an L.
All in all, though,
she’s still moved by somebody else.