Let Me Remind You of Your Amazingness

How do they do it, the candidates

jetting from city to town, shaking hands,

barking out their big plans? At first,

I am amazed, but then one day

I think how neither one of them

has to wash their clothes,

cook their food, do their dishes;

they are assisted with everything,

even dressing, and a staff of people

help them with the main thing they do:

connect with as many people as possible,

attracting votes to their palpable names.

I wonder if they ever feel nostalgic

for a time when they had chores to do,

or if they can even remember.

Does the rich guy with the wig

look back with fondness

at the military school regime of tasks,

before the tax-free years of golden toilets?

Does the woman who lived in a governor’s mansion

and the White House ever crave taking steel wool

to a pan of seared beef? I used to have to carry

my clothes to a laundromat; I don’t ever

get warm, fuzzy feelings for that,

and I wouldn’t just do it for fun of a feeling

of authenticity. Of course, anyone seeking

public office is someone of great energy

and persistence. Some of them are even

smart and good. I just think it gets easy

to see them at one lectern after another

and think to yourself, “I am lazy

compared to this being.” In this ugly election year,

let me remind you of all your amazingness,

you who have no one to pick up your clothes,

cut your grass, make your food. If we gave

each of them our longest day of the week,

I think they’d learn a thing or two.

We could trade roles, go on the trail

and say what we think about the state of the world.

It would be annoying to be in the public eye,

and they would probably be bored

with our mundane privacies. For instance,

here we've gone all day without our puppy

peeing on the floor, and that’s a lasting victory.