Three

Clinging to the stars,

I celebrate my levitation.

Closing every door,

I circumnavigate precipitation.

The wind picks up,

But I am on vacation,

Safe and warm,

Beachside in the Caribbean.

Do you know the downside

To a publicized oblation?

Just ask the guy who’s

Ruining our nation.

Come to see the referee.

Watch him weep for inflation.

Watch him wash our feet

Without complaining.

Come and listen to the angels,

Singing sweetly in the trees.

Come rise up into the clouds,

Where nifty seeds are sprouting Hi-C.

Can you catch me? Not likely.

I must be going—It’s almost three!