america's got talent

a poem

I could be president.

My chief counsel on Capitol Hill

Suggested a career in comedy.

Here’s a joke—for every back road,

Every brushed-off prophecy—do you

Grieve the bodies?

In Abercrombie & Fitch, they sell a new American Flag

factory-made and pocket-sized

A teenager mistakes it for a handkerchief

wiping his brow, sweatless.

He turns to his football team and calls it a magic trick.

On the Senate Floor, someone pulls excuses out of a hat.

a chorus of song breaks out—they sing about rolling hills and fake freedoms.

America is for dreamers!

I learned that if you drop a Lincoln penny from high enough

You can kill a man.