Renegade’s Prayer

Oh, save me,
save me please
from the eager clutches of the self-appointed
keepers of the flame procedural.

The score managers,
flipping back responsibility’s glorious mantle
like a pony pal shaking loose her sparkling mane
or San Bernardino Barbie’s off the shoulder flick;
the, are you following me?
photogenic, come hither smile.
While they tot up:
stats on slights,
attention paid,
recognition earned,
and every righteous dividend paid in full
and, by the way,
interest on accounts compounds daily.

Oh, save me, save me please
from a world plastic
all sharp edges smoothed to avoid even the whiff of litigation
correct in every form and forum
all gaps filled and every line painted fresh three times daily.

Save me from our better natures please.