by Luke Welch
My town hunkers low
beneath a troubled sky.
There will be a parade today,
weather permitting, and I will run
with the Democrats, smiling
past the houses and heavy faces
of my Republican town.
The new one is better
than the ass in there now,
and I am not a politician
but I will run with one's name,
like a rock star's on my chest.
I will smile at my neighbors
and ask for their votes.
I'll keep my place between the clowns,
circling in their funny cars,
and the high school marching band,
which despite the occasional stumble
and missed note, does an excellent rendition
of the Star Spangled Banner.
Luke Welch has published recently in Pemmican and Centrifugal Eye. He is always a father, often a poet, not often enough a political activist and for a living works as a sign language interpreter in northern Illinois.
