If I were a blood sucking parasite
I'd hide in the stilt grass and wait
For the next feast to walk by.
Usually it's a deer or opossum,
But if the weather is fair I might see a hiker
Or a park ranger in khaki shorts
To feed off of for a while before an untimely discovery.
If the electoral season were right,
I'd position myself at the front doors
Of the municipal building
And encourage people to vote for my cousin.
There's always a chance
My cousin might be elected in for another term,
Thus securing a food source for me and my family.
The best year or two of feeding
Is always after a presidential election year.
After the competition and smiles and baby kissing
If you supported the appropriate side,
You're guaranteed a few years of relative vacation
Before starting up the whole campaign trail
All over again.
But I'm not the type to so easily accept handouts.
After the rush of rising out my my winter hibernation
And discovering who the new commander and chief might be;
I'd head back to my life of leisure,
Bobbing with the breeze
On the tip of a blade of stilt grass.
I wouldn't go back to the millstone because I had to.
I would do so simply because it feels good
To be working again.