
What are we pretending?
Like we might be noticed?
…and then exiled,
like Cicero.
Silly poets.
Silly me.
My blood is draining,
take it from me.
What are we pretending?
Like we might be noticed?
…and then exiled,
like Cicero.
Silly poets.
Silly me.
My blood is draining,
take it from me.
Out back, behind the house,
the woods,
where all the children
of the neighborhood gathered.
There was one stately pine
we’d boys climb until
cowardness set in
and we would turn back
around and lie
to each other
that we had touched the top.
There were benefits to these lies,
as our “sisters” would take us
over to the stream
and lay us down
on a bed of moss,
pull down our pants
and demand
a hero’s welcome.
Unfortunately, men continue
to lie this way,
on Wall Street and in DC,
failing to reach the needed heights
demanded by true leadership
because they are a bit too eager
to find yet another bed of moss.
Only women will lead
the world out
of the current mess.
Men, I’m afraid,
no longer have the capacity.
(Thank you to Michael for reminding me never to mention these things.)