It took a while for good words to locate my tongue.
After Trump’s latest border wall speech, I mean.
The scattering is my failure to remain non-judgmental,
to see the long view, my equanimity.
The rain spattered window reflects my
fake it until you make it face.
Sometimes a hot bath is not the cure.
Or chocolate. Or a deep red claret.
These are signs for me to shut off the news:
television, internet, papers, all of it.
Before I scratch my eyes out
or pour concrete into my ears.
A dose of Walt is in order.
I sing the body electric, man, in my loudest loud.
copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney
