tom de plume
The Best and the Brightest, the Bush Years
I have a favorite shirt.
I wear it till the neighbors complain.
Generally, however, they’re understanding
because they have favorite shirts also.
Sometimes everyone in town puts on
a favorite shirt and we all meet in
the town square and just hang out.
The dogs have a wonderful time,
their noses going crazy. It creates
a sense of community and humidity.
Two birds. Speaking of which, they
fly away until their heads are clear
and they can remember what songs
they’ve learned. All the stores open
their doors and give prizes to the person
who vibrates most with pungent aroma.
A good time is had by all. Love is in the air.
You can taste it when the wind dies down.
Bill says to Merve, “I really like your shirt.”
Merve replies, “It’s only half as good as yours,
my friend.” Then somebody introduced
the idea of “favorite girl.” And we started
taking them everywhere and of course
they had their own ideas, which included
favorites handbags and shoes and parasols.
We clapped each other on the back
and pranced under the moon till it was
time to go home and raise our families,
who would grow up to have their own
favorite shirts and that’s called progress.
The birds returned singing the same songs,
which told us history was a ribbon.
The little fellas love us, they sure do.
It’s hard not to love a person wearing
a favorite shirt. Hard but not impossible.
The Best and the Brightest, the Bush Years
I have a favorite shirt.
I wear it till the neighbors complain.
Generally, however, they’re understanding
because they have favorite shirts also.
Sometimes everyone in town puts on
a favorite shirt and we all meet in
the town square and just hang out.
The dogs have a wonderful time,
their noses going crazy. It creates
a sense of community and humidity.
Two birds. Speaking of which, they
fly away until their heads are clear
and they can remember what songs
they’ve learned. All the stores open
their doors and give prizes to the person
who vibrates most with pungent aroma.
A good time is had by all. Love is in the air.
You can taste it when the wind dies down.
Bill says to Merve, “I really like your shirt.”
Merve replies, “It’s only half as good as yours,
my friend.” Then somebody introduced
the idea of “favorite girl.” And we started
taking them everywhere and of course
they had their own ideas, which included
favorites handbags and shoes and parasols.
We clapped each other on the back
and pranced under the moon till it was
time to go home and raise our families,
who would grow up to have their own
favorite shirts and that’s called progress.
The birds returned singing the same songs,
which told us history was a ribbon.
The little fellas love us, they sure do.
It’s hard not to love a person wearing
a favorite shirt. Hard but not impossible.