Fast-mover Blue Angels’ roar
reverberates, resonates along
concrete canyons, glorifying
Fleet Week. Below, 
 
peace-clamoring agitators
crane necks to catch elusive 
glimpses of warbirds rocketing
across the Frisco terrain.
 
We’re war-weary soldiers returned 
from rendering downrange trauma 
care, who seek succor and join the
peace collaborators’ march. 
 
But their braying placards held high 
declare ritual conspirator intrigue
as they chant, “Hey-hey, ho-ho, 
bring the baby-killers home.”
            
We find no solace here. 
Disenthralled with fellow 
travelers, we retreat to the
Ferry Terminal wine bar.