Dictator of Nothing
He sure didn’t think it would end like this.
Young couples, old couples commandeer
the streets now—no tanks or missile launchers,
no army with guns they hold bigger than them.
Even the lonely are less lonely because
of the euphoria that will last for months—
the sun will seem less oppressive, the moon
brighter than most can remember, the winter
kinder too with its snowbanks, showing off
its humanity by flaking down softly on each
and every creature , crows still flying like small
black coats over the fields and vast cities
but who are quietly cheered, not held in dread.
The dictator is unable to count all his mistakes
and prays he’ll be spared pissing his pants or worse
when the door opens and he’s hustled
into the courtyard, wisdom telling him one last joke.
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