Kafka, the Conductor

If he would be around today,
And signs are that he lurks everywhere,
Franz Kafka would be a music festival director
For the US Congress, playing only during recess
To atone for the absurdity of the power dance,
Or the high pitch screams during the lobbying incest,
And for all the aborted laws favoring social rape
Knowing that even though the chosen ones
Beg for limited love
When the building feels so far removed from its
Original score
Kafka, the un-elected conductor, would continue
To play, to move his hands up and down
Rearranging the notes to fit the clowning
Around, to appease the audience with
Promises of sanity and harmony
Like any good leader of a mad choir would do.