Nixon's Ghost Poem by Percy Dovetonsils

I sit here trying to remember
the dream of America,
the dream of our forefathers,
and all I see is you,
walking the beach at San Clemente
in your shiny black tie-up shoes.

What happened?
Is this the dream of success,
to generate hideous disgrace
and still imagine one's state to be
an embarrassment of riches?
Why haven't you hung yourself
with your tie?

Because you never take it off?
Why don't you die, Richard, die?
I know your will's indomitable,
but what keeps you alive?
Belief in yourself?
I bet you're plotting your return
right now.

For the life of me,
I can't take a step, breathe a breath,
without you taking one too.
Unless, of course, I turn out the light.
Then we're equals.
Shadows.

My faith in you grows and grows.
You never quit.I thought you
the toadstool that grew
in America's shade, but now I see
that all the light in the world
doesn't make you afraid.

You're the dark image
of the sun, beholding to no one.
My respects to you, Richard,
you're the weakest man I know.
You must have tapped the cool,
mysterious, winking power
that makes fireflies glow,
and glow, and glo