Twas The Night Before Election

A Little Poem to Brighten Your Day

(*if anyone so much as critiques the rhyme scheme on this or tells me that an iamb is out of place, or that I've gone and pissed all over formal tetrameter - - we're not rewriting Longfellow, just cracking wise. . .*)



Twas the night before election
and all through the land
the pundits are hedging
with their heads in the sand.
The candidates are exhausted
and likely on edge
both of them eager
to sit down and vedge.
And somewhere in the US
Sits a Senator who is crying
For all her truth telling
and through all her husband’s lying,
She’s been a political machine
A fact that no one is denying.
But for this election day
With her fans smiling and doting
The only thing she’ll be able to do
Is a little waving and voting.
And somewhere else is another,
A symbol of not-sure-what
Who was governor of a populace
Some of whom lived in a hut,
She’s undressing for bed
In a hotel high-rise
Donna Karan and Gucci in a pile
A sparkle of vacancy in both of her eyes.
I’d like to think of her
while brushing her teeth
in a Mickey Mouse t-shirt
(and sensible things underneath)
humming a tune, a hockey anthem perhaps
wondering how she’d gotten there,
how she’d won political craps.
And tomorrow will come
as tomorrow always does
the sun up there shining,
the bees giving their buzz,
Churches and schoolyards
transformed for a day
into political dead-zones
"Here to vote? Right this way."
There won’t be any more slander
no more political trashings
We won’t see Tina Fey
Handing out comedy bashings.
The American people
just as silly as ever
will be driving to polling places
their bumper stickers so clever
and with Starbucks in one hand
a cellular phone in the other
they’ll wait forty minutes
to solemnly discover
they just can’t remember
can’t seem to get it quite straight
to which propositions
they most nearly relate
"Do I hate immigrants more
Or is it the gays?
Do I rewrite the marriage law?
Did I leave the iron on today?"
And we’ll watch out the coverage,
With the word recession on our lips
with Plasma screen tvs in our dens
and designer jeans on our hips.
Wolf Blitzer will be there,
his beard all a flutter
and at some point in the evening
that great phrase he will utter
"The next President of the United States..."
And he won’t need to struggle
He won’t need to push
Because any name he says
will be better than Bush.


By the time you all read this, having, I hope, prioritized your day to leave this blog at the very end of the "check if I have time" list (especially since its been over two weeks since anything has appeared here) we will have another president. It is great news, and a sigh of relief will be shared by all. Happy Voting.