an army of terracotta senators and representatives line the tomb of america’s freedom a catacomb hermetically sealed from the needs of the nation and its people these protectors of just us stand guard over washington’s necropolis of marble halls parks statues and wood panelled offices their lacquered words covering red white and blue patriotic paint can curl in fifteen seconds once exposed to corporate donations and can flake off in just minutes after an election their covetous emperor lies in his own pit with a rickety entry way door carved with a crescent moon
the brown bag prophet said i understand the world’s oldest circus is closing i replied yes financial difficulties i believe oh the prophet said but i have it from an alternative fact source that clairvoyant carnival clowns advised the owners to close since they would not be able to compete with the circus in washington as the king of clowns has taken up residence there
standing along the route that protesters were taking to washington i saw the brown bag prophet who said i see tump’s the new president i said i don’t believe that’s the correct pronunciation of his name the prophet said do you know the definition of tump that small mound or hum mock or if you prefer the urban definition of a tipped container spilling its contents cuz if you did you’d know i said the name correctly
having found insanity as the only option the trappings of middle class america were place on auction those items not sold were stuffed into trash bins along with a number of neglected dreams the sale proceeds the cold cash were hidden in a new lula lu petite bra purchased as part of his new identity wearing a sleeveless silk blouse embroidered with the words westboro baptist church is where god puts his enema in scripture-like letters the same color as his nail polish hot heavenly pink and although he didn’t drink he carried a brown paper bag twisted tight to hide the gatorade inside he didn’t want to lose social rejection by not complying with previously defined standards of behavior as he boarded the charted jet he wondered how he’d be received at his class reunion always hard to tell about those small town farm folks he guessed it depended on whether or not they had their evening toke or not regardless he felt compelled to venture home one more time before his immersion into the full political life of washington
the brown bag prophet was heading off to the soup kitchen when he stopped and asked me if i could think of an example of someone bearing false witness i presumed that was going to be the topic of discussion at the church tonight and i said that nothing came to mind he laughed and said i take it you haven’t been following the goings-on in washington
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apparently aunt bea was upset because as I walked up to her door i heard her say now ain’t that a bitch you must understand aunt bea never ever loses her cool so this must have been something big so i asked her after entering if everything was okay she asked why i would think otherwise and since i was not permitted to use the b-word i simply said oh i was just wondering she said everything was just fine but she had been just reading a request from her senator for a donation to support his work in washington