Numbering the losses for this leader
is not easy, this man who, for starters,
lost the first of two elections
which put him into office,
then misplaced the two hundred billion
given to him, as a present, by his predecessor,
and since has lost us
five hundred billion a year —
hand him a hundred billion or so
and he'll forget which pocket held it
or which pair of pants he was wearing at the time.
This is just money,
though it adds up, as they say,
but he has also driven away
almost all our friends
and even more thoroughly our admirers,
for some friends will hang around
out of loyalty, or fear, or with an eye
on this or that hundred billion poorly attended,
but admirers must see something to admire,
some wisdom, some ideal, some program,
and our boy is short on the first,
out of step on the second,
ideologically rigid on the third,
so that admiration has suffered
a major falling off,
and we must also undertake
the sad task of counting up the dead,
lost lives thrown to the dogs of war,
a lost war where there need only have been
some clever police work,
the lost chance to drink the milk of human kindness
immediately on offer, but he made it curdle,
this man who lost us two tall buildings
and four planes, the only losses on his ledger
not entirely his fault,
though he disregarded warnings,
and lately an entire city lost, for which
some would also deny his responsibility,
the storm was real, an act of nature,
but he aided and abetted in the loss
of sweet and sweaty New Orleans,
for he fumbled FEMA to an uninspired friend,
he stirred up high winds and waters
with his witch's stick of global warming,
and, if there is a God in heaven
occasionally turning a weary eye our way,
this God may have thought
a little slap at George
for all the trouble he has caused
would be very well-earned
and just possibly the sort of sign
some seer or other would notice.
— R.P. Ericksen (October 1, 2005)
Last updated: October 15, 2005