For some reason, I'm thinking about Barack Obama tonight.

Not the president, of course. The man.

And this one ...

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1.

Why doesn’t anyone smoke cigarettes anymore?

Is it for the sake of their health?

Nonsense.

The early thirties crowd is a scalawag lot.

Blockheads with neckties.

Dry cleaning and historical non-fiction.

Appetizers and bottled beer.

They have regular checkups

and envision their eighties.

They put on Pete Yorn records

and fancy themselves listeners.

They frequent MOMA on Saturdays

before stellar restaurant suppers.

They ought to be more afraid of dying.

2.

Let me tell you what I’m gonna do.

I’m gonna write some nihilistic shit.

I’m going to make my mother think I’m a Republican.

I’m gonna go all out against these new Obama voters,

the ones with gradual jobs

and opinions about sensible government.

I’m gonna write and breathe and stink and flunk and stick my dick where it doesn’t belong.

I’m gonna shove and spit and throw a fit and eulogize significance.

Then

I’m going to take it all back.

Grab a peaceful soda and a bag of honey pretzels,

turn out the lights in every room

and lock the goddamn door.

And while everyone else is hashing out the wreckage

I’m going to reset myself

for the good of the badness. 

And there's this one ...

Inauguration (or Auntie)

1.

Tonight I came to Washington D.C. because I’m in love with someone who lives here.

It’s Inauguration Weekend.

I’m here for five days

and the bars are open ‘til 5 AM

in honor of a more sober administration.

Hopefully.

Or maybe not.

2.

I just got a brand new sweater sent to me from my aunt who lives in North Carolina.

She’s a Republican and never deviates from voting that way.

The note

with the present

said this:

“Dear nephew:

Here’s your Christmas gift.

Sorry it’s so late.

That nigger you like isn’t half bad!

I hope he doesn’t try too hard.

Love

Auntie.”

From right after Obama got elected

Losing Obama

1.

It was Inauguration Day

when the sad revelation came

that two semi-new lovers

had turned the corner

and were now

two habitual bodies

who ought to just rinse off and get out.

It was a cold, school-less afternoon.

Nothing stirred in the room.

The kind of day a community organizer can sink his teeth into

and which presidents

can not distinguish

from any other.

2.

Sometimes I think I’d like to love Jesus

or flags

or maybe just a living room totem.

Anything to get my mind off my flimsy convictions.

Anyone who holds anything very dear

has a day or two at least

when it’s necessary to sit in a dark room

and address your suspicions.

Imagine Barack Obama

envying the chewing faces

in restaurant dinner windows.

If you saw him from way up high,

(say, from the top of a skyscraper)

looking through the window
at a regular couple at a regular meal,

you might get some idea of how difficult it is

to be impressive

or inspiring

or in love

all the time.