Poisoner, Pusher, Crook

How unbecoming it must seem,
I grant you, to appear on the
very day of the New American
Government's generous reaching
out to the lingering skeptics
of its Crowd Size, with homil-
ies on unity in preserving a
fragile whiteness in the land,
to observe that yet another of
its stalwarts had been compel-
led to relinquish office, not
by peer review, not by intern-
al investigation, not by Con-
gressional oversight, not for
indiscipline of policy, but by
journalistic inquiry into her
staggering commitments of in-
vestment (never mind, of pol-
icy), in poisonous addiction,
pharmaceutical dependency, and
the odd market variation in
price arising from her own de-
partment's actions. Oh, dear. 

Nor can one note her departure
with any expectation of remedy,
in the odd coincidence of con-
flict of interest, by which we
know our betters in the dark.
But now a poisoner, invested in
tobacco; a pusher, invested in
wondrous pharmaceutials; an in-
sider privateer, trading on the
currents of official conduct?
Just possibly a purse too far.

The office being vacated, is
the pinnacle of the nation's
Centers for Disease Control.
Just the tiniest little bit of
noble affinity for money seemed
incongruously wagered, even in
the face of this conflagration
of raping America to greatness,
for all that is left, and loved.

Possibly we have only begun to
discover the uses of desire a-
gainst us, even in our ballot.
But what can be told, from our
dull borough of dependency on
fact, but that this is not over.