November 5, 2013
She waits breathless on the eve of the election,
Heart pounded a bit harder in her chest
As if she had a real stake in the race
And could care less if the horse she bet on wins
By a nose or a mile as long as it winds
When handicappers claim it won’t win at all,
And yet she sits on the sidelines in the grandstand,
Clutching the ticket she bought
Unable to trade it in at this late date
For a new horse she can better count on
To finish first, she, we, they all stuck
With the horse we came in on,
Riding out the face to its natural
(and also bitter) conclusion,
Win, lose or draw, afterwards
Taking the even longer ride home,
To hopefully lick her wounds,
To reevaluate her needs,
To figure out what comes next,
Though now, while the race is still being run
She still has hope, cheering on her horse
Until it loses.
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