“Get over it!” roared Shelly when I tried
To joke about the reelected Bush.
“Love your country dammit! Adjust! We fried
Your liberal ass.” “But how can I stay hushed,
Watch quietly while Bushies choke dissent?”
“Then leave!” (red-faced), “I’ll gladly pay your fare!”
Sorry the next day (‘cause I’m old and bent),
Shelly said, “Let’s talk.” “Nah,” said I, “I care
Blood deep (no more civility), too cold
For friendly disagreement; too damn scared
Of poisoned air, of endless war. We’re sold,
Crushed by debt to furnish corporate lairs.
Detritus of a man who talks to god—
Proud to know nothing. President? How odd.”
10/16/05