I saw George Bush’s hand this week
up close, impeccably dressed.
It was on Fayette Street
in a Cadillac heading west
in a phalanx of motorcycle cops and SUVs
and vans full of guys with sunglasses.
There were two identical Caddys,
flags flapping on the fenders.
So if my protest sign is really a bomb
I won’t know where to throw it.

All the windows were tinted, even the side ones,
but I saw the hand reach forward from the shielded comfort of the back seat
and wave at us standing there on Fayette Street
across from the Baltimore VA Hospital.
Some of us were sitting there on Fayette Street
in wheelchairs.

But with the windows closed and the AC going
the hand couldn’t hear the booing
or see the guy in scrubs giving it the finger.