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Because literally everything I've tried to write this past week has been sabotaged by Teddy's effing space pirates trying to weasel their way onto the page. Do you have any idea how hard it is to insult your ex-wife effectively in a poem at all, let alone one that starts talking about pirate ships in space out of the blue? I do. It sucks.

Letter To My Senator

Oh, Teddy Cruz, Teddy Cruz.  Why, oh, why,
with your familiar squish-faced stupidity,
did you have to describe, with such specificity,
pirate ships in outer space?  Why, Teddy?  Why?
Pirates like water, Teddy; it’s parrots that fly.
And while it’s true that pirates have a proclivity
for parrots, it’s also true they limit upward mobility
of parrots with their dum-dum tales repeated by
suddenly dumber parrots stuck on the shoulder
of Captain Morgan stuck on a wooden ship
more likely to sink from a cannonball blast
than blast off into space in a fit of flight.
So, for you, my fellow Texan, here’s a free tip:
if you can’t beat Trump, you’re not meant to last.
Now please go away - I need quiet space if I’m to write.

americasonnet

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