Enter JASON in alley.
I cannot breathe for bile in bubbling lungs,
And I, physician, have no remedy.
Again, again, the President doth claim
Our sole healthcare achievement of this age
Is but a tenpin to be overturn’d.
And finally he seems to bowl a strike,
With Senate votes sufficient for his aim
Save only one, Republican McCain’s,
Who hems and haws with th’ill and injur’d’s lives
Whilst basking in the limelight he had lost.
My furnace hath no vent. Patients I need,
So patience I must in hospital show
Lest inhospitability ruin me.
I have a son each second Saturday,
And should I wish to check that privilege,
I’d merely need to slacken once my reins
Upon the snarling lycanthrope within
That stirs each time my child saith “Mommy saith,”
And then intones some Fox-fed falsity.
Black rage brings retribution dark and swift,
While white ire, scarcely seen, gets longer shrift.
What dost you here, sir? Have you friend to meet?
This wynd can be unsafe when walk’d alone.
Self-disembowel’d soul! I suicide!
Vexation plain upon my brow hath plac’d
Me ’midst the bull’s-eye rings. Sing high, my throat,
And let me not dyspepsic odor belch.
(to OFFICER). I beg your pardon, sir. My thoughts did rove.
As did my ankles. Exeunt us all!
I see his fear, and though it doth mistake
My purpose, I cannot yet say it errs.
For others similarly uniform’d
Would make his form no form for no offense
Save mere unfenc’d existence. Sense demands
He run, yet running isolates us both,
Himself to others likewise unpolic’d
And me to those who honor not our vows
To serve and to protect. I am disarm’d;
Unpunish’d crimes hath many victims harm’d.
JOHN MCCAIN, enfeebled, sits in his backyard. Enter MITCH MCCONNELL.
’Tis Mitch McConnell.
I think I know a colleague by that name,
But e’en before this brain grew tumorous,
I found DCists unremarkable,
Their ev’ry statement echo of their king’s.
Do jog my memory with speech that’s thine,
Not merely party’s, if thou have thine own.
McCain, thou relishest a feinting jest,
And though the Democrats hath label’d me
As Muscovite, Cocaine-Head, Reaper Grim,
I’ll not spoil a condemn’d man’s final meal.
But I know thou retainest dagger-wit
And knowest who I am and why I come.
To plead with me to cast my vote t’repeal,
And what repeal, I need not specify.
To claim the very healthcare I enjoy
And owe my moments of lucidity
Must now be ended.
If we must be fools,
Then let our japes be scrapes revealing truth.
We only chop this tree to seed new growth
Inform’d by proper capitalist thought.
No senator shall e’er have common needs;
We judge the working classes from afar.
But socialism poisons all our dreams,
Re-leashing worst to best, and most to least.
Our ideologies do out-age us,
Acquiring wrinkles deeper than our brows’.
I have held dear those Reagan-verses too,
And thought Obamacare hubristic smoke,
But Arizonan carcinologists
Have their own views. One’s ne’er too old to learn,
And ’tis the small we large should represent.
If principle shan’t move thee, think on this:
Trumpcare will null Obama, who did snatch
Thy Presidential chances in oh-eight.
Thy alphabetic neighbor, in thy name,
Wilt send his legislation whence it came.
“Trumpcare”? This oxymoron portmanteau
Would rouse such laughter as t’my lungs collapse,
Unless thou meanest “care” as “worries borne”!
Thou’rt not my neighbor, Mitch. Thou dost forget
McCaskill, the Missouri Democrat,
Whom e’en this leaky vessel still recalls.
But thou hast long been blind t’the other side,
Uncrossing chicken in a half-told joke.
Such clarity I find it brings to me,
Our legislators should try death themselves.
Not all at once, sir-rev’rence: five or six
Whom their constituents, I have no doubt,
Would nominate for such an honor if
They had the chance.
Thy hour grows late, McCain.
Wilt thou not write the climax to thy life?
The Lord hath written that, and long ago,
I fear, those like thee hath mistook its theme.
I wander’d bomber-clad in Vietnam
And fell to prison, where I tortures bore,
I found continued army service balm,
Bur I made peace that we’d not win the war.
I wander’d to the Senate, my mind freed,
And oft from party ranks I wander’d out:
I like those never captur’d by a creed
Or by a demagogue’s demanding shout.
I wander’d twice to Presidential run,
And though my losses froze my face as scowl,
My foes, more than our “friend,” full fairly won.
I shan’t refight wars lost for causes foul.
To live, Mitch, is to lose. One must accept
Such loss and wander on or be o’erswept.
Dies. Exit MCCONNELL.