As this is now poetry corner, a piece of performance poetry which is almost prophetic (pathetic as well)

Joe’s Bar,  Exit 30,  Interstate 4,  FLA,  USA,  Date: 9 December 1999       


Side by side in the liquor store

sat George Dubya Bush and Big Al Gore.

“Dubya ‘tween you an’ me an’ that swing door,

hell  no one gives a damn – no more.”

So set ‘em up Joe. Si Si Senor.


“You know Big Al, I can’t ignore

the public’s kinda tired of  electoral law

an’ I gotta admit,  that I’d plump for

a toss of a coin, an’ one less encore”.

So set ‘em up Joe. Si Si Senor.


“You’ve got a deal, we played a draw,

and I prefer peace, I prefer rapport.

So Dubya Bush, what are we waiting for.

A big silver dollar?” – “Yup – an’ the press corps.”

So set ‘em up Joe. Si Si Senor.


So up went the dollar, it fell to the floor,

rolled around, and out the swing door.

They looked at each other, and both knew the score.

President Bush or President Gore.

So set ‘em up Joe. Si Si Senor.


“Hey, Senor gentlemen, I hate to bore,

but both you gentlemen I feel sorry for.

So return to your stools I do implore,

an’ hear my  philosophy is all I ask for!”

OK set ‘em up Joe. Si Si Senor.



“Here there ain’t no interns, but there’s no trap door,

there ain’t no power, but there ain’t no war,

there ain’t no bucks but  there’s no fatal flaw,

Sure, winners take all, but we losers have more.”

Finished? Set ‘em up Joe. Si Si Senor.



“What in heck does he mean Al, that a metaphor?”

“Allegory, Dubya, named after me Al Gore.

You wanna know the gist, the apple core.

Here the sun don’t shine but the rain don’t pour.”

So set ‘em up Joe. Si Si Senor.


“Let me get this straight, we exit that door,

forget the election, forget the score,

forget the White House, Mount Rushmore.

Why, he must think we’re from Chickenscraw.”

So set ‘em up Joe. Si Si Senor.


My philosophification, Senor, is no jaw jaw

Its Saddam first and then a star war

Then Dubya Dubya III and Dubya Dubya IV

And when we’ve kicked ass, we’ll kick some more

So set ‘em up Joe. Si Si Senor.


“So its one for the road and then one more,

then listen  Big Al, our feet walk the floor,

We pick up the coin and its Bush or Gore,

An’ its out of town on Interstate 4”

So set ‘em up Joe. Si Si Senor.


So they had their drink and they had one more,

And headed towards by now revolving door,

But they slid horizontal and started to snore,

And in came the snappers from the press corps.

So set ‘em up Joe. Si Si Senors.




“My fellow Americans from shore to shore,

it’s true I know I’m  kinda saddle sore,

but when my country calls I can’t withdraw,

No more I’ll live in Hope, Arkansas.”

We set ‘em up Joe. Si Si Senor.