30:30 2014, Day 18

Apostrophe for Mr. Met by Bill Clinton

"Approach the President and we go for the killshot. Are we clear?"

- Secret Service agent, briefing Mr. Met, 1997

O pardon us, cheer leader. The world asks

the stance of war and shelter. I know

a mascot means only his colors, dumb

show for the home crowd, feather-

weight reproach to mock the visitor. 

How could your head hold anything

except miles of lively thread around

a core of belief? Your smile is a fixed

star through the blown saves, the seasons

of debt, the empty seats and maybe-

next-years of the soul.  The smile

would persist even as the killing

shot found you. That is a promise

even I cannot make.