Willow rite. Weeping wrong.
Another palliative platter
of poached persuasions
for the putative pluribus.
Magic gooning gone wild.
The free state falling.
Puppets and drones
tracking phones, pheromones,
flames fanned by versed robots,
ice caps drooling down Broadway.
The great white way is closed.
“For Repairs,” says a sign
your system cannot understand.
