State Democratic Party Convention, June 2, 2017
I came to the Hotel, across the street from
the site of my toil for ten dollars an hour for
weeks upon weeks in years past.
Congregants swirled and only the swift
and determined could make a progress in
the crush of human creatures seeking
glory, justice, or diversion.
And there stood my Congressman,
holding forth, looking lusty and vivacious.
And the lads all about him looked lusty and vivacious too.
Though no delegate, I was privileged in
these holy precincts; and I paid my thirty-five dollars to
the party treasury, getting some swag in
the process. The process is the heart of things,
natura rerum. Congregants wore the message
"I like Luke" on their gear, and
that is the gospel I like best right now,
the teller of "physician, heal thyself," and
recorder of the suffering of MBA-blessed Dives,
who had the greatest investment advisors in
the Upper Midwest, but whose weight grew to
worrisome levels, and was too mortified to
ditch his SUV and commute on foot, lest
his junior high school bully should see and mock him.
And, yea, tho' the political situation
is worrisome, I fear not so much,
because somebody lives who
truly needs a piece of the fruit of my labors:
I refer of course to my healthy, courageous Congressman.