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.