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yawning lion shaving in my mirror in the morning, roaring,
    And there’s my grandchild standing in the doorway, adoring—
    Many teeth to brush, a beard to shave!
    OK, it’s not solace, but it’s not nothing, still to be able to roar, to rave
    With vim and vigor about the loss of vim and vigor.
    It’s sort of like a finger on a trigger
    Is facing me in the morning mirror, and starts to snigger.
    It’s sort of like walking downhill in Lisbon
    On the Avenida de la Libertad all day, but then I start to run
    To get to the economy and Obama and the election—
    Though I’d have to say,
    I had a pleasant stay.
    The breadlines in America will eventually go away,
    And we will live to see another day.
    A great leader lasts longer than a day.
    The rain comes. The sun shines. He does not melt away.
    A black man on a white horse shall chase the redskins away.
    It’s the dignity at Appomattox of Robert E. Lee
    Live from Phoenix on TV.
    That old white warrior John McCain gracefully concedes.
    Nobly gives the nation what it needs.
    A thousand years from now, you know it,
    This day will be remembered, poet.
    By the shores of Gitche Gumee,
    By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
    Told his message to the people,
    Told the purport of his mission.
    Car horns are celebrating up and down Broadway.
    Tractor-trailer air horns joyously blasting.
    Harlem to Times Square—Tribeca to Mecca.
    Fado dado didi dado.
    A nation conceived in liberty conceives.
    Kids high-fiving, others crying.
    Fado dado didi dado.

THEN ALL THE EMPTY SHALL BE FULL
    I see you in the morning and I see you in the evening.
    That doesn’t stop the other things.
    The shorebirds and the shellfish make merry in the giant oil spill.
    The fire drill bell rings and rings and rings.
    Not everyone who wants to will.
    I see you in the morning and I see you in the evening.
    It’s back to school. And, in our district, it is time to vote.
    It’s time to recognize it’s fall,
    And every larder will be full.
    The fuel is mystical and has to be to feed us all.
    I grab the supertanker by a hawser and I pull,
    And rewrite everything I ever wrote.

THEY SHOW YOU THE HARP
    Indeed, the human papillomavirus
    Would seem to require us
    To abjure oral relations,
    Nutritious sixty-nine, the yodeling muff-divings and fellations.
    Unless you want to be a dancer
    With oral cancer,
    There’s your answer.
    Stick to intercourse,
    Though it’s not safe either, of course.
    Ride a horse.
    The virus is spread
    By love bugs in the bed.
    And there is an unfunny increase in cancer of the mouth
    Among the young, whose mouths are going south.
    It’s love. There’s nothing else to talk about.
    You end up with half your mouth cut out.
    They used the Internet to elect their candidate
    And lived on love and the little sleep they could get.
    When you take a tour of a seniors’ retirement home and they remove the tarp,
    You see how deformed their hands are, and they show you the harp.

ISTANBUL
    Stray dogs with a red plastic tag in one ear
    Have been licensed
    By the city to be safe and allowed to live in the street,
    So they wander around, or more likely just lie there,
    Healthy, checked by a city vet, without a care.
    They’re red-tagged Turks and they’re an elite.
    You walk past them in the street.
    They’re bums, they’re the homeless, not educated.
    It’s complicated, but they’re regulated.
    It isn’t complicated.
    The red tag is their fez.
    That’s what the republic Atatürk founded says.
    The Four Seasons Hotel Istanbul
    Has toothsomely been called the best hotel in the world.
    The luxury takes place in what was once a prison.
    To be a prisoner of luxury
    In the old center of the city
    Is such a Turkish incarceration
    To luxuriate in.
    The Turkish hot chocolate the Four Seasons serves perspires
    Oriental desires.
    Think swarthy sweetness.
    Think secular Atatürk.
    But Sultanahmet has turned more than a bit