I, in no way,
can even begin to understand
how anybody
could be undecided
in a presidential race
between Kamala Harris
and Fred and Mary Trump’s
sorry-ass son.
Come on.
Undecided about what
is my question.
I mean one
could just go through
the alphabet
from A to Z
and easily see
the differences
in these two people
who are making a run
to lead the nation,
like she’s admirable and he’s abominable.
He’s boastful and she’s blissful.
He’s a cunning criminal and she’s kind and considerable.
He’s dreadful. She’s delightful.
He’s boringly evil. She’s effervescent and affable.
He’s frightening whereas she exudes friendliness,
and he’s ghastly in contrast to her gentleness,
hell bent to her being heaven sent,
incoherent
in comparison to her
obvious intelligence,
jivey up against her judiciousness,
wanting to be king
as she comes to our rescue
like a knight in shining armor
taking on his loathsome soul
as a lover
not a hater,
masterfully
rather than maniacally,
nobly instead of nonsensically,
open-mindedly rather than obstinately,
peaceful rather than poisonous,
quick-witted rather than quixotic,
rational rather than raucous,
secure rather than sad,
trustworthy rather than trying,
upstanding rather than unhinged.
Where he’s volatile,
she’s versatile.
Where he’s warlike she’s welcoming.
Where he’s xenophobic
she’s like a love song
played softly on a xylophone,
someone who’s youthful
in juxtaposition
to his old yahoo disposition.
He’s zoned out.
She’s zoomed in,
focused on not making
his negative way of life
a trend
that would bring our way of life
to an end.
What’s making someone hesitant
to vote for her
at this stage of our nation’s history
is something I could never comprehend.
Ernie McCray is an activist for love and peace who acts and sings and writes both poetry and prose, a man who rises each day to do whatever he can, no matter how small or grand, to make the world better in some way.
Unapologetically.