Hello and Hola y welcome Namaste, 
today, I am thrilled to announce—
Headset affixed, I translate the decelerated events into the Commander’s ears, our very own walkie-talkie exchange.
—the latest plan to reform our climate, because together, we can—
He fiddles, unfocused, fountain penning a to-do list: buy butter, get petrol, book flight, fix stove. 
—this will move the economy forward; we are one part of the sum—
What if I were to slip in “bum” instead of “sum”? 
The Commander’s eyes might dart at other’s notes, a flushed face among the white ones, spluttering on his coffee. Jolted into attention, he wonders, what is this speech about?

​

But, “bum,”
in my sauciest accent,
might just make him look up to catch my eye,
we are connected by cords, after all,
—this is a simply natural cycle— “nothing is more natural than you and me,”  
—it’s time to put the needs of our economy first— “let me meet your needs,” 
—temperatures are no longer rising— “but we could make them rise,” 
—and the climate should settle shortly— “it's the climax of this conference!”
“Hot,” “heavy,” “energy,” you’re none the wiser when you don’t speak English, Mr. Commander. Jolted into attention, he wonders, what am I trying to tell him? 
—we have all done enough— “I can’t get enough of you.” 

 

Rumbles of applause, deafening as deforestation, fill the conference center. I detach my translation device, alongside all its lusty visions of a future without peril. I know I've played my part in the great climate debate. The Commander signs our climate treaty.