How odd to be in Washington –

the embassies across the street, the flapping flags –

and find it’s not like House of Cards at all,

but just a town with cars and clouds

and people grabbing coffee on their way to work.

No sacred monsters on the hotel’s TV screen,

no Underwoods or Douglas Stampers here:

just psychopathic Donald on the breakfast news,

the demiurge for all the nation’s noxious fears.