by Lucille Gang Shulklapper
Too bad Dick Cheney, far from brainy, slithered and dithered for eight long years, and willfully instigated fears. While others fought and died, our “Vice” decried the attack on his watch; was willing to botch the war on Al Quaida. He was the real deciduh , who tried to cover-up in Iraq, flexing his muscles like a super-charged jock. Even tricky Dick, didn’t stick to his schtick, but resigned, kept reality in mind, while Cheney still thinks like a hawk, send in more troops, why bother to talk, just call Obama a name, say Obama’s to blame, call him slow to the task, listen to Cheney, who knows how to answer what he couldn’t ask.
A workshop Leader for The Florida Center for the Book and the Palm Beach Poetry Festival, Lucille Gang Shulklapper writes fiction and poetry. Her work appears in many publications, as well as in four poetry chapbooks, What You Cannot Have, The Substance of Sunlight, Godd, It’s Not Hollywood, and In The Tunnel. Recently, she has been teaching college preparatory reading at Broward College.
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