… when I see you
in your photo ops
I am inspired
to feel sorry for you:
those moments when the fear
shines through from beyond
the bravado, when your eyes
ask plainly, When
will they find out
who I really am?
At such moments, Bush,
I see you little-boy naked,
all revealed before
the camera’s eye, the emperor
with his once fearsome
dick and balls shrunk up
in terror. And my heart
goes out to you
at such moments–that is,
if I manage to catch it
before the cruel laugh.
