Good God -
I almost forgot the Honor Men!
Those pillars of conformity
with their orange blazers
and Jeffersonian rectitude,
afflicting us with their boozy breath
and stale pretensions in the rotunda.
And look how rotund they've grown to be!
They're oranges teetering on toothpicks;
oranges soaking in whiskey
squirting bourbon when squeezed;
oranges that should have been left
to rot on the trees.
Humor the Honor Men!
For they upheld the Hypocritic Oath
as long as their withered arms could.
because their members have shriveled
and their influence has petered out -
leaving them petulant and confused
because their time has come and gone.
But what will happen to the country clubs?
Who will boldly sail the shallow waters of our bays?
Who will smoke cigars and waylay waitresses?
Who will presume to know what everyone wants?
Just as I think these thoughts,
a vast image of the Tower of Babel
troubles my sight.
And hundreds of disparate parties
espousing thousands of opposing beliefs
swell on the lawn like some tumorous growth;
each wearing orange
and each vowing to uphold the Hypocritic Oath.
Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
First published in Scarlet Leaf Review