SHOEDENFREUDE by Dennis Doph

out there. 4

Never has a Christmas gift surprise been so supremely needy
Than the size ten shoe thrown with more than its due
by handsome Al-Zaidi
Screaming, "Dirty Dog!" and other epithets
lower than his foot, he said
And threw his Shoes R Us things at George Bush's punkin head
Now we can add this benison to all the foul deeds Bush has sown
As the Prez and his lieutenants go careening on alone
Free of guilt or insight; in their parlous psyches not one dent
As public appreciation of their talents plunges
to a scant nineteen percent

Now from my Fibber McGee's closet I pull
mocs and socks and shoes of every size
To pitch my lack of confidence at the numbnuts
of each wise
Here's a scuffed green Wallabee with catshit
decorating its cuff
To let gap-toothed Condi Rice know for sure
enuff is surely enuff

As the grey shark Cheney emerges once more
from his undisclosed hoarding
That fervent nineteen percent applauds
his taste for waterboarding
His vice-presidency has careened through
eight long years and late --
Too fucking late for perilous loss; and a Wallabee
for his pate

Here's a scuff-soled Reebok I recently found
half-buried in some foul ditch
I'll shy my straight-armed pitcher's best
at Rod Blagojevich
Seems his peddling of Obama's Senate seat
was not exactly fair
And while I pitch the 'Bok I wonder
what he does to all that hair

From the back shelves of my closet
scores of footwear come to hand
I'll hone my homemade pitching skills
on Bush's feisty band
And while minions of the Right raise Cain
with all their weepin' and wailin'
I'll shy a dung-smeared Army boot
at feisty Sarah Palin
Something about this jumped-up chick
has cooked my Christmas goose
And I'll give her a whack before her
next attack
Has felled another moose

But from the top shelf of my closet
where the Right would prefer I live
I have another Pitchin' Present
that I'd prefer to give
To President Jesus in his innocence
purblind to all things gay
And wonder how in forty-seven years
he contrived to get that way
Now he prefers to enrage us
with evangelicals in his thrall
And hire the bastard with the mealy mouth
from the Crystal Cathedral

Here's a shoe for you, President Jesus
a flat-soled wake-up call
Before, in your rush to be fair and balanced
you contrive to insult us all
And my very last boot is for that fawning preacher
whose manners are not so great
And who labels us second-class citizens
by supporting that damned Prop 8

And if any of you uptight ladies and germs
are upset by my shoe-flinging chores
I would merely insist, the next head on my list
is indubitably YOURS