Tuesday, February 4, 2020, at 9 p.m. EST

State of the Union Dream 

Looked down at the White House, no one was home.
But over the Capitol with magnificent dome,
From a hundred feet up, I heard strident din.
While hovering above, I saw clearly within:

Our king bragging and ranting in long-winded spiel
Claiming success (for what?)—it was truly surreal.
Out spewed the gloat, and irrelevancies and bluster
Parsed like his tweets, or chopper bytes, or a filbuster.

Later, hobnobbing lawmakers sought grips and grins
In hopes of boosting home election campaign wins.
Out came the smartphones; schmoozing was essential.
(Selfies improved their election potential.)

Our monarch saluted, postured, OKd and grandstanded;
He bombasted, gaggled, wheedled, glad-handed.
Tight-smirking hacks in the GOP hierarchy
Preened with him in Fox spots, smug and snarky.

Pork barreling, backstabbing, elitism and leering
Continued, with faux patriotism and sneering.
The vibe was overwhelmingly disturbing and dirisive:
An undercurrent of dysfunction. Disordered; divisive.

In last week’s sham “trial”, McConnell had shielded
The emperor from ruin— no evidence was yielded.
They’ll be voting on Wednesday. They’ll let him remain
Atop the bully throne of autocratic domain.

These men have appropriated our hard-earned millions.
Who’ll resolve our huge debt, now up in the trillions?
When time comes to pay our staggering obligations,
Will Senators be around to face accusations?
Perhaps wealthy CEOs will pay the bill.

I dreamed and drifted above Capitol Hill. . .


—Will Walsh  2020