An arena of human agreement
That doesn’t harbor human
Disagreements from other,
Larger arenas, escaped
Feuds that turn up everywhere,
Such a quarrelsome species.
Nuns sing Ave Maria
In fury at activists
Protesting their mega-church
Carved from a national park,
And delegates debate time
In an argument over
International standards,
With faith and military
Objections to suggestions
Bringing teams to loggerheads,
And for every hushed meeting
Of silver-tongued diplomats
There’s an active killing zone
And ten fault lines under stress.
Attendees boo candidates
At their own party’s forum,
Where every side’s accusing
The other side of lying.
There’s nothing left in the bank.
There’s nothing left in the tank.
But this will go on, you think.
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