I lacked the feral energy of a congressman, Tackling feuds with the ease of a mused marionette, Sending every heave that dared the mountains Into Giza’s pictorial epitome— A vision of elite on this humble earth, Before Heaven’s grace scattered leaves at the wind’s beckoning, Calling it the tailoring of justice In a world thriving on anarchic whim. Instead, I was the leaf Hoping the winds of change would pick me From all the miscellaneous at bay. I longed to see the world Unshaded, untoned down. I arrived as an intern, Hands still spilling ink at every fresh blank, Destined for a resume That would be my magnum opus. Yet it kept crashing, Like a computer infected at the final piece. I glitched at every turn to sparkle Everything caught flames. I huddled close the boxes that remained of my name On the last day of office. Now, a novice, I know the rules of the game are not as lucid As the sky I once dreamt of reaching.