Parade

Merely a spectator, 

and far removed,

I watch the parade

in Washington,

losing myself in the

seeming individuality

of glitteringly detailed floats,

each an entity

encased

in suit and shiny tie

held aloft not by magic,

but by the weightlessness

of gas.

It's easy to forget,

in the lull of slow progress

and dull predictability,

that the tiny inner machines

that pull the strings

of smiles and waving hands

so carelessly 

and willingly commit

a profitable genocide

with every step.