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Poetry: Special Days
Plolitical trails
by Allan Traphagan

The Republicans keep running their old political
machine, while the Democrats are coiled up
ready to strike, with Diamondback fangs and a
quivering rattle of a vague sound of past wealth and revenge.
The third party cruises around like a phantom...
a stainless steel De Lorean, showing up once in
a while, to be admired but totally unavailable.
Politicians speak with the smoothness of the Vicuna coats that we put on their backs.
Yet...when they are caught red-handed, they manage to navigate through without a single
slash of punishment.
Like a slimy Snail, crawling over the edge of
a razor blade, confident...uncaring...like death
to the gods, it.'s all in fun.

 
 
 
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