VOTING FOR CLOUDS

One imagines this Republican dream as a long archway molded to a
tunnel, where babies, soon after walking toddle the march, winding
years behind them, stopping briefly for bright sun, small packages of
swings, picnic tables, birds, kitty cats, delightful gardens, then
back in the chute to the next harbor, the right schools, the American
dream festooned with little doors to stop and grow and pray and sing
hymns of opportunity and diplomas, the latest toys IPads, wing dings,
French fries, burgers and herculean promises of more and then back
in the tunnel to emerge, trained, ordained, armed, and maintained,
for the next unconstitutional invasion, or draconian snap at the
next scrap of soil that won’t part with their share of the pie
or don’t like the cookies we send them.

This is it. There stand the god fearing cherubic, fair-haired
specimens, soon to be draped in the flag they so dearly love,
bugled to the Arlington of choice, lost in the rush of oil
pipes pouring back the goods, Republican victory illuminated by
Sarah Palin’s,“I accept the challenge of a tough fight.”