‘Twas the Night Before Elections…

Twas the night before elections
and all through the house
all the news feeds were stirring
up angst in my spouse.
The pundits were blabbing,
and all talking heads
were parsing minutiae
of what each candidate said.
And though quite a bit
was completely uncouth
we planned to go early
to our voting booth.
When out on our lawn
there arose quite a clatter,
of wailing and cursing
and political chatter.
Away to the window
I tore like flash
tripped over some laundry
and busted my… um, rear.
The moon on the drought-
stricken lawn down below
reminded me climate change
was not just for show.
In a moment an alien
saucer did land,
and spat out an orange man
with the tiniest hands.
His hair was all wispy
his mouth was a-puckered.
His alien language
made me feel like a sucker.
The longer I listened
the dumber I got,
and all of my Sunday school
lessons forgot.
He talked about walls
and he talked about jobs
And he called people morons
and losers and slobs.
In all the dystopian
futures I’d read—
Octavia Butler,
Atwood—all said
That such tendencies,
both sexist and racist
just needed a spark
to rile up the bases.
So I chose to ignore him,
and pay no attention,
which is what you should do
when toddlers throw tantrums.
So he got in his ship
and took off like a speeder
when he saw I would not
vote for him as our leader.
And as the sun rose
and the fingers of dawn
exposed the illusions
there out on my lawn
I saw that the boogey-men,
monsters and haints
were nothing at all;
they simply just ain’t.
So though there are bullies
whose words will disgust us,
the arc of history’s long
but it’s bending toward justice.
Regardless who’s chosen,
I won’t boo; I won’t gloat;
For all those who couldn’t—
and cannot—I’ll vote.