(just being Ann)
The fanfare isn't you at all.
I've watched the hilarity-
Your social conscience,
A cosmetic powder of absurdity
Enriched with the honey glaze
Of some cable news anchor
Seeking an erection in ratings.
And you play the southern church choirgirl
In suburban soccer-slut-mom 5-3/4"
Above the knee dress and ululate on
In discernible hyperbole
Saying nothing- still,
You exhaust it all, Anglo bitch
In your own little circus world
Pimping for the right to be right,
While unloading your glock.