We. We point. We point a finger. We point a finger at one another. We point a finger at one another while backing away. We point a finger at one another while backing away, hands wagging. We point a finger at one another while backing away, hands wagging, jaws gabbing. We point a finger at one another while backing away, hands wagging, jaws gabbing, until we hit a wall. We point a finger at one another while backing away, hands wagging, jaws gabbing, until we hit a wall, at which point we take that knuckly, pointing finger and shove it as far we can up our cavernous, ghastly nostril, dig around real, real good and proper for a while – policy-making is a process, don’tcha know? – finally yanking those fingertips back from the nasally abyss with a grotesque, slimy prize attached to the tip and now we’re pointing again, this time offering such lovely treasures to the other side – ourselves: a hard-fought/wrought/got gooey, green end result of a hard day’s work.
Jason Preu 
Really devious politics, poem and blog!
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Success! Thanks for coming over and commenting.
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Interesting !! Nice read by the way.
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Thanks for reading, B!
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Love it! Very powerful.
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Great! I appreciate you taking time to read and comment.
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Nice! 😊
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FANTASTIC. I love the revving of the engine in this poem and the peel-out at the end totally pays off. Love the flow of the last few words, “a hard-fought/wrought/got gooey, green end result of a hard day’s work.”
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Nasty stuff! Thanks for stopping over to read and chat.
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I always thought anything to do with politics the finger was pointed in another part of the anatomy. Silly me its green gooey not brown n yucky
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