I am a blip on the radar screen

I am a hot property

I am a strong dispassionate intellectual

I am stuck in traffic on I-77 on a morning

When there is no good news

I am a fixed voice in this bland landscape

Crowded with jaded pablos and used janes,

You’re screwed. There’s no backing out now.

You have set you life upon a cast; the hazard is

The dice were loaded. You course is clear now:

Straight into the shit house

Without even a break for station identification.

The stage they set for you is the same one

You entered upon. Only the names have been changed

To confuse the innocent. Believe it or not, it is the game

You agreed to play. It’s not spun out of control

It’s not gotten out of hand

It’s not gone too far. This is the way the game is played. Those men

With the guns are your friends, but they will shoot you

Just the same. The rules

On the back of the box spell out why. Oh Captain, My Captain,

They know that "cock" is not nearly as dirty a word

As "liar." You should have known that too. The pederasts

Will vote along party lines, and the sodomists

Cannot be counted on

For swing votes.

The good news is that your term is nearly over.

In the land of the blind the one eyed man

Is king, and on a morning like this it’s tempting

To grab a sharp stick and set to work. The glory

Of rule is no antidote for the great gray that has descended

On this land. Oh Captain, as I swerve into the fast left lane, as I sound

My barbaric TROMP on the accelerator, as I swing

From dead stop to sixty mph, as I put this all behind me

And set my sights on the next exit, I can’t stop

Thinking about tomorrow and tomorrow

There will be a lifting of the great gray, there will be

A sunrise on this landscape, there will be

Joy, and forgiveness, and reason to believe.