Twas the Night Before the Election
|
| By
Betsey Culp |
| |
| (With
apologies to somebody) |
| |
| Twas the night before the election, when all over
town |
| The speeches were ended, robocallers shut down; |
| The eagle machines in each polling place, |
| Hoped that the voters would soon fill the space; |
| |
| The candidates nestled all snug in their beds, |
| While visions of victory danced in their heads; |
| And
John Arntz in his office,
Steven Hill at his desk, |
| Prayed that tomorrow would not be grotesque, |
| |
| When out on the street, the silence was broken: |
| The ruckus could be heard all the way to Hoboken. |
| I picked up my cellphone and rolled up my sleeve, |
| Ran to the window to ask them to leave. |
| |
| The flickering light of a faulty streetlight |
| Turned cars into boulders and painted curbs white, |
| When into my view came a traveling circus |
| Or sixty-six bears dancing lively mazurkas. |
| |
| The bears were split up into nine separate groups |
| With colorful signs which they brandished with
whoops. |
| When new ones appeared — first
D11 came — |
| They whistled, and shouted, and called every name; |
| |
| Now, Bonilla! Now, Grier! Now, Sandoval and Lim! |
| Run toward the finish with vigor and vim! |
| On, Medina! On, Silverberg! On, Silverio and Yuen! |
| Show that you’re upstanding women and men! |
| |
| As preachers urge, in pursuit of a mission, |
| So a surge of voices urged coalition: |
| “With ranked choice voting, that’s where it’s at.” |
| But brave D11 would have none of that. |
| |
| Then, in a twinkling, I heard a new sound |
| Of chuckles, and jokes, and praise all around. |
| When I turned my head, the reason was clear: |
| A banner announced
D5 was here. |
| |
| Without an incumbent, and twenty-two strong, |
| The famed zippered district had to muddle along. |
| And so did
D7, of fine golf and boating, |
| Where all bets were off, with ranked choice voting. |
| |
| Of the Presidio and traffic, sang
D2 on tour, |
| While
D9 sought housing and help for the poor. |
| Two parallel lines singing two different ditties, |
| They might have been living in two different cities. |
| |
| Next came Peskin, a right rollicking elf, |
| In front of
D3, as if all by himself. |
| But no, there were others, just one step behind, |
| Who were hoping to beat him when their votes were
combined. |
| |
| And then, with a sigh, alas and alack! |
| Along came
D1 at the back of the pack, |
| For the race had grown ugly, in the old-fashioned
way, |
| As when big downtown money still had a say; |
| |
| One bear in particular was covered with mud, |
| Encircled by wolves who were after his blood. |
| But McGoldrick marched proudly, refusing to bend, |
| And called over his shoulder, “I’ll win in the end.” |
| |
| The bears capered by in a stately quadrille, |
| But they stopped to salute at the top of the hill, |
| And sang out together in one parting note, |
| “Have a good evening, AND BE SURE TO VOTE!” |
