Maximum Capacity Twelve

Instead of a graduation ceremony,
from the hallowed halls of politician “U”,
the graduates bow before the altar of
“all sides of any issue”, and flick
their tongues through “tickle your ear” blades
of cheap plastic—donated of course, shredders.
Now don’t get weepy eyed, and
pressurizing your veins with sympathy,
all feelings and intelligent thought
have been disconnected from their brains.
They also get to carry one home
in case any of the flapping strands
start bonding together in an honest opinion.