A flight attendant politely chased me down
at an airport that I will not call O’Hare.
He said it looked like Democrats don’t care
about the boy with cancer. Sad emoji. Frown.
They say that every Congressman’s a clown,
but I am more a barstool liar with a flair
for confabulating social vaporware,
untrue in every verb, conjunction, noun.
There was no Jim, and I was never there,
but the story points to something that is sure:
airplanes and boys exist, are real, and whether
Brioche Dorée or Manchu Wok was where
they met in meaning, they are and mean: be more
rational, & get your act together.