Precisely the petulance of airs and graces,
dyslogistic, rife, clean-cut,
surrendering with my palms and eyebrows,
armed with an alors là,
Never escaping pretty personal pronouns,
raising a glass to progress,
yet nodding subtly and superciliously,
to the bloody, votive liquid,
sunnily embracing hatred with my puckered lips,
that all too modern communion,
that appoggiatura of knowing laughter,
shared with my friends and enemies alike.
surrendering with my palms and eyebrows,
armed with an alors là,
Never escaping pretty personal pronouns,
raising a glass to progress,
yet nodding subtly and superciliously,
to the bloody, votive liquid,
sunnily embracing hatred with my puckered lips,
that all too modern communion,
that appoggiatura of knowing laughter,
shared with my friends and enemies alike.