My Oh My Obama

My Oh My Obama

He’s mine, all mine, go get your own.

In perfect rooms in the palace,
we talk next steps.
He’s everything I imagined,
and completely in my debt.

“I was just going to say that!” his most repeated line
as he’s my Obama and we share perfect minds.

He’s smart, like me.
He’s quick, like me.
He’s erudite and eloquent, like me.
He’s Just, like me.

And he’s just like me–if he weren’t black, a hard worker, successful, and unimaginably powerful.
He’s mine, all mine, go get your own
you Ivy League reporters and writers,
you men of industry, of ministry,
you teetotalers and sycophants.

He needs men like me now
that the fighting is over,
men who cut through the crap
who get to brass tacks
who skip the platitudes and cliches and shit
who cut to the chase.

He’s mine, all mine, go get your own.
We’re about to have coffee.
(I like mine black,
no slur intended, Barack.)
(May I call you that?
Please, call me Matt.)

We’re in this together,
like so many others,
and every word you offer
comes from me as well.

That’s the reason you’re mine
and so many others, together,
as well, at last.

–Matt Casper


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