by Alexander Manzoni, Elections Correspondent

No early morning news, today, here.
Special report: Ambassador Sondland is live.
And he says, that yes, there was a quid pro quo.
Ukraine controversy— impeachment hearings.
What seemed to be a dream is materializing
before our beleaguered eyes and senses.
Investigation nation. Burisma.
Sondland explains, “Everyone was in the loop.”

Something stinks.
What could it be?
Trump is guilty.
Impeachment inquiry.

How long will it take
to shake the foundations? Tremors.
Fissures crackling, spreading over The Potomac— through The Swamp.

Will it drain?

Never
fully.

But perhaps an inch or two of sludge shall thence be skimmed off the top,
much like the politician
who wet their prospective beaks—
taking more than a taste to thereupon satiate their unyielding, primitive hunger-greed.

Here cometh the first round of questions.
We are waiting for truth, for recompense, waiting justice to be served—
waiting for the Republicons to finish defecating out of their mouths.
For they are casting doubt, in perpetuum.
I cannot bear to listen.
Though I must try.
We must survive.
 
Adam Schiff, with the crazy eyes, then questions Sondland about Ukraine.
“…logjams…”
There, he said it again:

“…logjams…”
Daniel Goldman, house democratic counsel,
with an equally bizarre gaze goes up to the microphone.
“…A.$.A.P. Rocky…”
Trump couldn’t stop talking about that rapper.
If only national fiscal solvency caught his attention in such a way
we might not be where we are headed today.

[President Zelensky] “…loves your ass…”
“That’s how president Trump and I communicate,” says Sondland.
“A lot of four-letter words.”
Another conversation with Holmes, crude language. Crude presidency.
May it end eventually— preferably sooner than later.
The situation, it is graver than what many of us thought possible.

We are waiting for truth,
for recompense,
waiting justice
to be
served.