ELECTION DAY for c.
we watch the returns come in quickly
confused.
we realized it would be a close one
staring at the television staring at
the heads trying to figure out
what they’re to say about
the fact that
what we’ve said is unclear;
these guys voted too, though,
so they’re just as guilty. America,
We, they say, are folded in half.
What to expect, when fed the projections,
and the polls,
Anything but wandering into to the booths split
spilt
content to let a typo decide the fate of the nation
The Vice President Senator’s Son and the
Governor President’s Son have talked on
the phone. It has been confirmed.
I have heard the word ‘snippy’ used.
My muse takes a backseat
and goes to bed at three, leaving me
dazed and shirtless under kitchen fluorescents;
over the drone of the microwave I hum in key
and empty dented cans, having waited on my hunger
show me what I’ve rationed myself:
I race to the couch at 3:17 for an update
different versions of different thoughts
settle around me.
I fight for position,
the live one, backspaced over
fixed
see there’s always one more voice than I counted on
just keeping me breathing until my vote counts
..
peeking over the shoulders of giants,
the hard up present their case:
bringing as evidence of innocence
another protracted attempt at a guilty erase.
well the deadline has been set and
the precincts have reported but still I have not
seen any results worth their salt
and even though everyone wants to be free
we all agree we must elect one
to lead.
And so to an (almost) empty room
choose
or however one might say it
I’m my own man
Didn’t somebody say that too?
it depends who you ask.
it makes the world and its observers shake their heads
and its leaders sigh with memories
of treaties never to be written,
makes ambassadors sigh in nostalgia as they
remember the more relaxed and approachable man
at G7 meetings
someone they would want at the other end of that phone
America and I are suffering this couch tonight
the melancholy of what could have been,
the alienated wonder of what one is to do
when the clichés fit
and the profundity of the majority does not suffice.
I see fit to hunker down
and eat off what Occham’s razor rations for me:
another chewed up pencil
another five minute nap in an office chair
another borrowed fax another fake hello
another greeting with stained teeth
another meeting more slides and more
another party platform, promising that it will be the immovable object
that the thought is fixed and becomes truth
sadly this is not the case:
young golf shirted white men
laugh and
the tweed jacket types patches and all
rub their chins as their girlfriends give any observers a
show with a worried look and an arm grab
tucked in and such
and it’s not all right but it mixes
with scotch better than silence
but not to worry
it’s four thirty in the morning and
I have no president
I have fire sleeping in my bed
A room over, pulsing as the music comes in louder now
through the floorboards
..
The love of a life like this isn’t free:
So instead of a wide smile and a
Heel of hand pressuring chin wonder I
Took another shot at sunrise
With just raw materials and rations
that rest heavy on this morning stained
couch; part sound part memory
part: another kiss without flesh
another tori amos record another missed
high note leaving a stain like impotence;
another lost ballot box
another envious complaint
another lost soul avoided through
anger and indifference, another
another hot earthquake of her orgasm in my mouth
and my love is thawed and dripping through the floorboards again
and with
..
and i’ve had a premonition about how this will all end
you close the door or maybe it’s me that closes it
and I don’t like that sound
that final slamming door
you’re only doing it because you want to sleep
and the television is keeping you awake
but it’s five twenty six and
I still don’t have a president
so I must train:
i make an excuse to get up and get out
and close it again
make sure it sounds how I want it to sound
I turn the television up to keep you
Up with me
Because it’s what you do when the world is sleeping that matters
and we’re front page ready
let them read about it in the morning papers