Neighbors and chickadees,
colleagues and compatriots,
citizens of the world, elves
and newts,

Today I am not standing before you.
No one has required me to give
my accounting of the past year.

I am one of the unelected
sitting by a window filled
with the bounty
of grief.

I have no more to say
about the economy
than the sauce that remains
on my lips from yesterday.

Nothing new to add to
our progress in the war
though it appears few of us
can remember when it began.

Allow me to start over,
to pledge my allegiance to the flag
that hasn’t been sewn yet.
that none of us will feel
compelled to stand for.

Before I forget I want to thank
my wife and my lover
the bluebird who is the queen
of distractions.

Before I forget I want to salute
all veterans of foreign wars.

Nothing is foreign to me anymore
and I wish I could shake each
of your hands.
My assistant, the field, tells me
you are no less than these blades
of grass, leaves who served
our country.

This is the point where I am
expected to make promises.

I promise to weep with you.
I promise to stand in line.
I promise to share my recipe
for a thin sauce made of paper
and limes,
something that might appeal
to both sides of an aisle.

Did I forget to mention God.
I hope not. I hope some god
I haven’t met yet is being
invented instead of another
government.

I’ve instructed my aide-de-camp
to lay in waiting for the arrival
of a little spirit,
esprite-de- corps,
to let me know when I’ve remembered
to say everything I needed to
about the hope of the wind,
when my time is up, and that red
flag inside the parking meter
clicks down, telling me time has
expired.