There’s a pastiche on the counter at the video place of
George Bush on a motorcycle
wearing shades and a black leather jacket.
He looks handsome.
In this guise his trademark smirk is just
the insouciant smile of a guy having some fun.
If he hadn’t been born again and become the president,
we would have accepted his personality, or never even known about it.
He wouldn’t have seemed so pained:
flat, open features stretched—
parched and desiccated—
by the effort to appear presidential.
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