Loony Time

By Cliff Lake

 

Loony Time

 

Crises pulled daily,

Manufactured by the wily,

Extracted and presented

As if from the forever pocket

Of the animated hare,

Leaving us to ask:

“What’s up, Don?”

We see the signs:

It’s rabid season.

 

Yearning to be the rootinest-tootinest,

He comes off a bit too daffy,

And in desperation declares:

“This means war.”

Still, dark secrets loom,

And when asked where they are found

We’re told,

“They went that-a-way.”

Watch him dip, dive, and dodge.

It’s duck season.

 

Pontificate, obfuscate, complicate.

Explanations reach their acme,

Blowing up when handled,

Requiring more answer than:

“That’s all, folks!”

Still, they rush headlong,

Towards the tunnel,

They painted themselves.

Can’t they read the signs?

It’s rabid season.

 

And it’s despicable.

 

Cliff Lake 9/28/2025

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2025

Location: Washington, DC, USA

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