We wake up already <br />in the theater, <br />where the plays are running <br />but the last acts are not yet <br />written. <br /> <br />We've developed great interest <br />in the main character of one, <br />a man named George W. Bush. <br /> <br />We've watched his boundless <br />confidence—brashness? — in action: <br /> <br />first the invasion, then the 'Mission Accomplished' <br />landing on the aircraft carrier, <br />then the whole thing falling apart. <br /> <br />But the air of his confidence <br />continues. Does he know <br />something we don't? <br />Does he really hear <br />the still, small Voice? <br /> <br />And how will it all end for him, <br />with some kind of whimper, <br />or a bang that breaks through <br />even that poker face?<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/george-w-bush-the-play/
