Belief in tomorrow
Demands all of our fidelity
Because the future lacks experience,
No year is twice the same
Or has occurred before,
Yet already our great-great
Grandchildren
Have begun to plague our thoughts.
How will they survive when crowds,
Like cages, enclose them?
Or take sweeping turns
On earth’s dance floor
As we did when we were young?
Best to let the air out of the moon
And watch its old scarred face
Whiz off, shrivel in the absence
Of its vanished light
And sink into the tides
On Moonlight Bay.
Then turn as one often does
In situations like this
To other thoughts,
Such as what the sky
And all of its impurities
Would look like
Had it not been polluted
By a right-wing conspiracy.
When was the last time
We thought about that?
Well, what is there to do?
Sign petitions? Why?
One voice in a billion
Has the same impact
As a drop of rain
Falling on the ocean.
But imagine
What would happen
If a billion drops
Fell on our president’s
Coiffured hairdo.
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