Daddy flies to Iraq
To spend two and a half hours
With the unsung, beleaguered troops
And serve them turkey and yams
On this bright Thanksgiving Day.
He poses for pictures galore
And is as kind, generous, and gracious
As he can possibly be.
After all, there is much at stake—
The war is on, for Chrissakes!
A few hours later, in Crawford, Texas,
Both Big Daddy and Barbara
Push black-eyed peas back and forth,
Awaiting their humble pumpkin pie,
And Little Daddy’s triumphant return,
Eager to hear the tall tales
That resound with redemption
And the promise of honor,
Restoring their good names
In these inhospitable times.
Meanwhile, as Air Force One
Streaks across the night sky,
Little Daddy sleeps ever so deeply,
Tuckered out from his afternoon’s work
And the tryptophan that shoots
Through his executive veins,
Like a lovesick missile.