Two Poems

I. Political Science

Fuck national polls.
I want to know about states.
And fuck most states.
Only half-a-dozen matter.
The rest don’t care if you run Bob’s uncle.

II. Locker Room

The poet said he’d lunched with
Our mutual friend
Who’d had a stroke.
They’d discussed
Their mutual friend
Who had ALS.
Which reminded the poet
to tell me of his friend alone
In hospice.

There’s a lot of this
Going around.