John Mccain Loses

Winter creeps forward As I struggle to look presentable. None of this helps. The writing, the window, the bed, As my bank calls me again (and again) Requesting me to pay the overdraft Fee they themsevles charged me Which I can't afford Even the draft from outside When I open the window To merciless New York, This city, the nest of my worst Nightmare--last night: I dreamt my bedroom was speeding down a dark track My window, glassless, a giant square hole Where I watched my room As it sped its way into a hellish oblivion, Soundlessly into the night I stuck My head out and cried: "In the time of light There was God." And I awoke.