Poem for Display in a Municipal Building

Abandon hype, ye who enter these sound-proofed rooms: you can fight City Hall all you want, really, provided that your words are bland as water & promise jobs—drip—development—drip—growth—drip. Open bribes will not be tolerated. The voters expect transparency & paper trails, sometimes even the anodyne of a Town Hall meeting where one by one they can stand & state their names for the record, that stagnant pool that reflects everything but their weariness, their anger, the way their hands rise like saprophytic flowers toward the sun, their touching gratitude at finally being recognized to speak.