PolimericksOn the Hill, the fed up take the floorTo deny...

Polimericks

On the Hill, the fed up take the floor

To deny and denounce and deplore

And many a member

For once in November

Will be running from

Congress, not for.

No media-op ceremony,

No handling or speechwriting

crony,

Yet Perot's number hauls

In millions of calls --

Does that make his campaign

a phony?

The Clean Air Act didn't curtail

The smogging of what we inhale,

So nine states are suing

Its White House undoing;

Pollution for profit? Call Quayle.

A too-many-millionaires quiz:

Which presidents made it their biz

The wealth to augment

Of the top one percent?

Money goes where it already is. Two young girls,

secretaries in frizzy curls,

precarious heels, and quite

tight skirts, went clicking

down the courthouse steps.

One girl tripped.

Tickety tickety tick

she ran to catch her fall.

Feet, electric, fast to faster,

kept her one space

from disaster.

By some miracle

of management,

she reached sidewalk

cement in order,

spelled out for the deli Joe,

half-a-cold-cut-sub-to-go.

Joyce S. Brown