2010
by Tarzana Joe
When near next November’s nigh
A mad majority disappears
In spotless sun
Taxes rise
As realization settles
On a seething city
Thin alliances dissolve
Approval ratings glide down
Facts feature failure for the future
A hard fall comes
Quickly
Then signs are raised
Slogans shouted
For the nation’s celebration
One term Blue Dogs take their leave
Unmourned
Bekins readies their vans
The people have found their voice
Bells ring
The city on the hill shines again
The poet cries
The moment of decision has arrived
The checkbook and the voting booth
Here are your tools.
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