What would I say to you, Joe? (Can I call you Joe?)
Kamala calls you Joe (Can I call her Kamala?). Is this
what we are to expect in the first of your first one
hundred days—the first first-name basis administration?
Joe, I voted for you, but this feels too chummy, which
sounds strange seeing as how we’ve endured four sour
years, like friendly would be an answer to our prayers.
But gosh Joe, while I’m thrilled to see that you are a pal
to poets and dogs and those who tend the White House
grounds, I want to make this one plea: be our President.
Yes, be our friend, but be that something more America
the beautiful is aching for—a symbol conspicuously good.
I realize this is quite the tall order, but you aspired to the
highest office, you made the choice to run and won. So run.
Run our country at a wise man’s pace. We’ve raced reckless
gassed on boast and swagger and contempt from both sides.
Slow us down to the self-government of being not only keeper
of our brother but our sister and our neighbor and mother Earth.
Rest your hand on the old Book and swear—be our President.