By Julianne Park
Do your lips crack when you stand at the podium the way the ground cracks beneath our feet, dry from ferocious heat waves and blistering winds? Do you reach over to sip the water we never had, because the grass for your green lawns and bentgrass are drowning from sprinklers so you can get a hole-in-one? Do you hear the sound of children screaming and houses burning and fire alarms blaring and families weeping or is your luxurious extravagant mansion sound proof too? Do your tear ducts fill with tears and trickle down those cold gray cheeks because you destroy the lives of millions and our futures? —or it is because your stock plummeted and the cash sitting in your vault is not growing fast enough?
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