-- for Amy Perruso --
How heavy, Molly, are these shoes
we cannot help but drag and scuff –
as heavy as their empty views,
which they call news. It isn’t news,
it’s fluff!
It seems we’re in it. Too late now!
The game they play is crude and rough.
They say that we have caused a row.
We’ve toppled their most sacred cow
with just a puff.
Yes, we’re to blame. To live with this,
as Jagger says, we must be tough,
tough, tough! They shout at us and hiss.
But let’s not take it so amiss.
The snake casts off its slough.
They had us by the neck. No more!
They’ve merely bitten off the scruff
and now are spitting out the gore.
They’ve failed to penetrate our core,
our style, our gist, our worth, our stuff.
So come on, now! Get up! We’ll take
a stand and call the paper’s bluff.
You fire the coals, I’ll fetch the rake.
For it’s the only way we’ll shake
this feeling that we haven’t done enough.