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"McCain was incredulous at the sight of Obama, a man he plainly does not respect, striding so assertively across large stages." (The Atlantic, Oct. 2008, pg. 46)
by Francine DuBois

"My fellow prisoners"--
McCain feels this in his gut
Every morning when he looks in the mirror
And sees Sarah! winking back,
Wearing a hotel towel, as the staffers claim.
She's always in his head, although
He tries to stay away from her.
He's seen "All About Eve," after all;
She thinks it's a chatty tell-all about
The original ceiling-shatterer.

He didn't spend years in a box in Nam
For her to breathe huskily down his neck,
Knives out, a Cinderella hurriedly turning
All the clocks back fifteen minutes.

And there's "that one," that tall, handsome,
Young, black man he can't look at anymore.
Eight years ago McCain lost his chance
Because robocalls said he had a black daughter.
Now, no one doubts a black man can win.
WTF? (But he still hides his adopted
Daughter like crazy Bertha Mason.)

It's just too much for him to suppress.
Life isn't fair, he knows, but God damn that
George W. Bush. Keeps fucking up his dreams.
And that one gets to be prez? Heckuva a job, Georgie.

Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version
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