tenderhearted elocution

like leftover sloppy joe dripping

out the sides of his/her mouth

as the gormandizer gets ready

for the rest of the meal---s/he

stands at the podium, a politician,

a priest---one in the same, telling

the sheep that they are not to

blame---because s/he tells them

what they want to hear (that things

will be better once they are in

charge, that if things don’t get

better there is a land somewhere

off in the distance waiting for them

after death that will help make

sense of it all), that s/he

can relate to the way that they

hurt, s/he looks, s/he appears to

have lived a life of worry like them,

s/he appears to have creases in the

face produced by lack of financial

security just as they, s/he even

tears up on cue as the best in

hollywood, when pressed---with

handshakes, baby-kissing, “blessings”

& “prayers,” each signal the

lowest possible denominator of

evolution, what hangs on for

dear life as those final attributes

that will be forgotten with the

dust & left in the gutter, when the

robots finally come.