dupont circle, 7 am


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.

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