DA MAYOR WALKS AT MIDNIGHT
By Robert Klein Engler (03/01/07)
It is a wonder and a thing born too late
That here at midnight, in our city park,
A dumbfounded figure paces back and forth
Near the mirrored "Bean" that bares his mark.
He sees a figure in the slant of polished steel,
Who lingers where the tourists come to play.
"Is it me, or just my father's ghost?" he asks,
Then curses loud to make it go away.
A portly, balding man, with coat of muddy black,
That drapes across his shoulders like a shawl.
He looks the sad politico that men despise:
A shyster lawyer, come to prey upon us all.
He cannot sleep next to his chiding wife tonight,
So out he goes, looking back at every crime.
He made the council do his will and toe the line.
Breathe deep. He only ruined one life at a time.
His head is bowed. He thinks of men and kings.
"I would be one of doz lost royalty," he sighs.
"I make da system work for me and mine.
Dey feed me votes. In turn, I feed dem lies."
The sins of all the Democrats warm his heart.
He sees black tanks and battleships upon the main.
If only they were mine, he thinks, I'd show them all.
Then round and round he goes, illusions in his brain.
And so he circles up and down until the vertigo
Of power that seeks its own increase takes hold.
His thoughts detach, his eyes search out the void.
"I am DA mayor," he yells, then shivers in the cold.
It breaks my heart that politics must muddle still,
That all his hours of bluster were just for fame.
And now he fumbles for the heart's white pill,
Then sleeps in common ground despite his name.
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