new president
young and golden
history making
he stands in grant park
chicago
with his young family
as the country undulates
below him
as the seas rise
and europe loves us again.
this young president
with smiles
and good health now
inheriting debt and war
unemployment
rising temperatures
a fucked government
and four-hundred years of racism.
i wouldn’t want his task.
i wouldn’t want that weight on me.
and as we finish the bottle
of scotch
election night
i make a promise
to myself that i won’t
look at him
a few years from now
with regret and anger
when hysteria and the sense
of purpose have faded
when his hair has gone
all gray
when his face has turn ashen
and all of those good people
throwing adulation
his way
are calling for his head
and he wants to scream
but it won’t make a sound
over the din
of two hundred and thirty two years
of madness and genuine
stupidity.
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