Reflections On the Aftertaste
by Michael Doyle

It was just one of those endless nights
I sat feasting on a garden of fried delights
Turning the channel to hear a bit of debate
Surreally hoping to help decide the nation's fate

There on the stage were two grown men
Who had been down the road and back again
Like the pointed fingers of schoolchildren
I saw a lashing out of name-calling again

A passive-aggressive suit wanted to sell wares
He was barely able to avoid falling up stairs
Clinging to talking points, he showed his memory
Was less than desirable and has a weak familiarity

Of what passes for the life we Americans live
Under a tyrannical administration, we won't forgive
All in the name of our own good, so they say
But no one elected the agencies or their way

Whatever the administrative way might be called
The policies given have given an economy stalled
Maybe fascism isn't the way for American dreams
The evidence shown, the verdict is in, it seems

The blessing and the curse of being overtly snarky
The other speaker dressed the truth in styled malarkey
Who could blame him after a bevy of hostile charges
Pointing fingers just leads to obvious countercharges

The puppet master of the suit spoke up at the end
Obviously, his suit was unhelpful and hard to defend
How this isn't elder abuse is hard for me to understand
Unable to fill two minutes means unable to lead this land

These are simply my reflections on the aftertaste
Maybe a dog ate his homework, but he prepared without haste
It's more than hard to sit here and swallow this illusion
Let's be kind but direct about the "Medicare" confusion

(c) June 29, 2024   Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved