In “Something Wicked This Way Comes” by Ray Bradbury
in October of certain years,
the evil carnival comes to town in a flurry
to prey upon our deepest fears.
It’s not the carnival with the tents to sell me a boat.
No, this time it is to get my vote.
The first performers came down the street,
knocked on my door, hoping for their treat.
I said “My, my, it’s little Joshie from Eastport or is it West Annapolis?
You're bearing fresh political fruits,
all dressed up in your grownup suits.
Whose your bearded friend in the swashbuckly boots?”
Joshie replied “He’s keeper of the Pirates--called Brownbeard,
among Republicans (and at least one Dem), he too is feared.”
I asked, “Whose your squinty-eyed friend?”
“They call him Brownboots but his name is like the doctor whose name is Mudd
which is where he digs for his truth.
On his computer he will "link-in"
and leave more Republicans--in blood”
“I know you all are in for a fight, Ghastly!
But aren’t you too young to be out at night?
Who's keeping you from veering off to the right?"
The three whispered back in a hush.
“Aunt Ginny, Uncle John and Coach Mike are watching from behind the Busch.”
They pulled off their masks and Oh my goshie--they each looked like Joshie!
Joshie brought his candy to Uncle Mike,
Then Brownboots took a hike,
Brownbeard pedaled off on his bike.
A tall, gaunt figure arrived--an executioner,
the grim reaper (yes, that’s reaper) I derived.
He seemed to be chasing skirts
and with political death he flirts.
A new girl came in a business dress,
with clear diction and words as she tried to impress,
but my oh my I must confess,
from where she came or who she was I had to guess.
Then from the south came a Leprechaun all clean
saying “It ain’t easy being my Shayde of green!
Hands off our lucky South County charms” as he spilled his spleen.
Then came a jeweler, a doctor, and a pilot with their friends,
a real estate pro and a soldier with an exploding cigar rolled tight on both ends.
They chanted “We must find those blue creatures and make amends
and bring their long terms to their rightful ends.
We’ll sharpen our axes
and chop, chop chop chop up their big, fat taxes”
Then from the Halloween haze came a couple of Big Letter A’s.
One actually stepped up and knocked on my door.
Dressed in his cords--a developer whore.
But each A spewed lies in their ramble
ho ho, to get me to gamble?
I was sick of them, so I put it this way,
“If it’s with your money you wish to play
then do it far, far away
don’t say it's a must for safety and schools.
Of all of the ghosts, goblins and ghouls,
do you really take us for such fools?"
Then finally came a big mattress with Martin and Anthony,
and Bob with his Kane,
and I asked who next over the state will reign?
Each accusing the other with malice
arguing who had the bigger (callous?)
as they poll-danced in my front yard
slipping and sliding in the political lard
shades of Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice.
I stuck it back in their faces.
“Stop pandering to us to win your races,
To teachers, taxpayers, or to this Urban Jew"
I left them standing and went for a brew.
I poured one down my throat
They're gone....whew!
and left them to argue who'll get my vote
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