Up the revolution, Brother!
The tyrant is gone
she left the country with our national treasury
in a briefcase laid across her famous thighs.
A flawless escape
we never knew till far too late.
vandalized her palace
shaking in furious mob orgasm
a revisionist frenzy
we tore through streets shattering statues
erasing her features with spraypaint slogans
While a radical element takes up forsaken reign
our solid citizens
bewildered by loss
fearing absence of her law
vainly await trains she kept on time.
As the executions begin
furtive prayers go forth in supplication
come back tyrant
we will support a coup détat.
An American In India At Christmas