Weekly poem on Trump Presidency
There’s No Such Thing As A Free Breakfast A Week Before Election Day 2018
The onslaught of anti- welcomes me at breakfast,
as my fellow lodgers negotiate their coffee and waffles,
pausing politely at the juice dispenser
which needs calibration,
a watery overload flowing into four-ounce plastic cups.
I toss mine down the drain,
try another spout, marginally better,
though I'm relieved this juice doesn't shriek
at the outrageous deficiencies of the others.
It's all travel breakfast. I avoid the noisy kids in the corner,
read The Nation's Newspaper, gaunt and moribund,
thinner than the industrial omelets stacked under the heat lamp,
like playing cards in a five-deck shoe.
At last the news, respite from the commercial wrath -
a truck overturned, a last-second mid-court basket,
a chance of afternoon showers.
This is not my home. I not so much feign interest
as I hide disinterest from the thin juice of news
washing down the din of hate
that's carefully designed to catch my attention, rile me, and vote
in my hometown where I've already mailed it in.
Tomorrow will be the same, one more travel day,
coffee warming and stimulating,
though its's nothing like what brews in my kitchen.
I tell myself to wake up, to prepare.
I tell myself that I'll be under my own roof,
votes tallied, hate shelved
until the first response, knee-jerk no doubt,
as I drink some fresh-squeezed,
managing my own pits.
Jeff Santosuosso is a business consultant and award-winning poet living in Pensacola, FL. His chap book, “Body of Water,” is forthcoming from Clare Songbirds Publishing House. He is Editor-in-Chief of panoplyzine.com, an online journal of poetry and short prose.