Kissing Hands and Shaking Babies
By Brandon Palzkill
Cold and dreary, aptly so;
Tuesday in November.
Resolutely, I did go,
to vote for a contender.
To the polls, I made my way,
casting my selections.
Content, that I’ll have had my say,
until the next elections.
Waiting, just like everyone,
for tallies, from the news.
Votes are in and that guy won;
insanity ensues.
Why the hell would they pick him?
Did no one see those ads?
His track record’s been awfully grim,
yet, he won… ain’t that sad?
And those, I feel, who should have called
the shots and ran the show,
had lost, completely, one and all,
and how; we’ll never know.
Although agreed, with many a “yea”,
amusingly, I thought,
desires to dull our pains away,
with hazy clouds of pot.
And I suppose, it’s just as well,
for people to get bombed.
If I could, I would, until,
his term has come and gone.
But now, it’s all been said and done,
they’ll finally leave us be.
Had the best man truly won,
though, only time will see.
