Dreams of Mitch McConnell
Strange dreams once again last night
Among some thousands of others
I was walking through Kentucky blue-
grass chewing tobacco
Passing a neglected, empty
swimming pool
Within which Mitch McConnell, nude,
Was glued to the bottom
Walking single-file passed
One by one we spat on him
And bit by bit the spit began to rise
And Mitch, he spat as well, below
The Reaper himself
He thrashed and splashed
And after a number of hours he drowned
Someone remarked: it’s good
that Mitch Buchannon’s not around
Remember him?
And what could it mean?
Well, so much for dreams