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.
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