POEM: Taking a Spin in a Fine-Tuned Machine

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By Saturday, Feb 25 We the People
Ann Getsinger

“This administration is running like a fine-tuned machine”

President Trump, February 17, 2017


The man at the wheel of the fine-tuned machine,

inhaling the high-octane fragrance of gasoline

(a leak in the fuel line or just Spring in the air?)

loves the feel of the breeze in his virtual hair


as he shoots out of the driveway into the thick

of the bumper-to-bumper capitol traffic.

Treating the rules of the road with executive scorn,

he gives the finger to drivers and leans on his horn


until it gets stuck. Damn thing won’t stop blaring!

He pounds on the button. Pedestrians staring

at the madman attacking his dashboard stop dead

in their tracks to see if he’ll notice the light is red.


He pumps the brakes, but what good does it do?

They’ve been leaking fluid and need a new shoe,

so the man at the wheel of the fine-tuned machine

whose mug is pure Mussolini sails right through.


Now, as both driver and tires slowly deflate,

hubcaps pop off as if starting to celebrate

the foreseeable end of this adventure in Dada –

a spin in Vladimir’s gift of a second-hand Lada.

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