Badges and Huggers

He was buckling his gun belt when I entered the kitchen
to brew a cup of Sumatra. From coffee to Air Tran, we spoke nada
(which everyone even those who don't speak Castillian know means nothing.)
And that's what we spoke none pause to the airport --- Nada!

At the dividing line between village and cornfields,
dumb-in-law put the car in park to let a freight train go by.
It's metallic rumble would have been symphonic except it wasn't.
A radio a commentator was ranting.

Commentator furiously rants on Wisconsin government striking workers
putting in jeopardy our Western Way of Life, part of a communist conspiracy, stretching from Obama to Cairo. What is this Western Way of Life?
Is there an eastern, northern, southern equivalent?

Dumb-in-law thinks Sarah Palin is America's Joan of Arc.
I think Sarah's cute but a media whore, an all too typical politician.
At the fare ye well, I would have embraced son-in-law,
but he sticks out his hand as if to say, keep your embrace to yourself.

Officer Rod drives back to his backyard grill in Southern Illinois,
to the swigging of patriotic beers with buddies, to the wall memorial
in his basement bar to fallen fellow heroes. I fly on to Hatteras
to my liberal, leftist-leaning, tree hugging agenda.