by Jon Wesick
Sarah Palin throws her trash
into my democracy. I’m sick of cleaning
her George Bush posters, empty six packs,
and ad hominem attacks off the Astroturf.
Tired of the music blaring from her stereo
the lyrics always the same
some poor multinational
oppressed by the big, bad government.
My mom says to ignore her but
more and more of her relatives move next door
to ride skateboards off the roof, shoot BB guns,
and feed marshmallows to the musty, bull elephant
trumpeting his rage in the drained swimming pool.
Someone’s going to get hurt
but the man at animal control has Alzheimer’s.
Each time I call he forgets my complaint.
If not for the falling property values,
I’d move. Who wants to live
on a street lined with junk cars
Drill Baby Drill stickers plastered on bumpers
their oil pans leaking into storm drains?
Jon Wesick has a Ph.D. in physics, has practiced Buddhism for over twenty years, and has published over a hundred poems in small press journals such as American Tanka, Anthology Magazine, The Blind Man’s Rainbow, Edgz, The Kaleidoscope Review, Limestone Circle, The Magee Park Anthology, The Publication, Pudding, Sacred Journey, San Diego Writer’s Monthly, Slipstream, Tidepools, Vortex of the Macabre, Zillah, and others. His chapbooks have won honorable mentions twice in the San Diego Book Awards.
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