If they cast me in one of those cheap
Medieval action flicks with cardboard swords and armor
The director’s eyebrow rises: he dubs me the tired knight –
Noble perchance, but I do not want to fight
If his once Star-Spangled friends sink
knee-deep into the outhouse of politics
They strive in vain to requisition the tired knight
They say he is noble, but in this spat does not want to fight
If the umpteenth family breaks apart into
Vitriol shards sharp enough to puncture the dragon’s scale
No doubt they will try to drag in the tired knight
To shed blood in a war he does not want to fight
Do not hire knights anymore to do a mercenary’s work
Leave your talking points at home: only coffee is Excalibur
If I’m noble in truth, do not sully what remains to this sleepy, tired knight
Who, yawning at the banners, doesn’t give a rat’s ass about your fight.