# Speeed Poetry

*Wheeee* I fly through the rig&#x20;

through the crowd made of wigs.

Fly through judged by the right wig,

by the left wig, no wig.&#x20;

I proclaim to be rid of the rig where the court sits.

*Wheeee* I keep running, armed to cause harm.

I’m about to hit the target, press the button, and be done with it.

*Wheee*! Almost at the center. Almost there! The crowd is dense, unmoving, rigid.&#x20;

I’ll make it move.&#x20;

I’ll make it fly.

I’m here at the big fat red cross without a thought. I flip the red cap off and set myself off to go *wheee* along with the crowd…
