(We interrupt your regular November programming of NaNoWriMo with a poem.  Because my lack of word count is driving me crazy.  I intend to catch up over this weekend, but I’m going to be very proud of myself even if I only hit 30,000 words for the month of November.  So there.)

 

The man sitting next to me on the plane

is a Chuck Norris wanna be.

And I kind of want to ask him

“What’s it like being the one

legitimate celebrity

for the RNC?”

Clint Eastwood is obviously crazy,

he talks to empty chairs

to opponents who aren’t even there

and as we all know now

are going to win anyway.

Four more years!

Four more years!

Say goodbye to Hostess cupcakes

and dry your tears.

Fake Chuck Norris plays football

on his phone that is not smart.

Gets antsy.

Asks to move to an exit row.

My liberal non-makeup-ed awesome

goddess self took up too much room

in the coach section

of Sun Country flight 281.

And I drift off to sleep.

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