Poem: To nonvoters: you are a push-up bra without underwire

I'm weirded out. There were 40 million less voters on Tuesday than in 2008. That's a lot of nonvoters. A lot of laziness. A lot of short-sighted thinking. A lot of disenfranchisement, which, when it comes to voting, I translate as entitlement. Oh, things haven't work according to my plan; I'm not voting. Obama did keep the war going and I find that unforgivable. But I still support him. And I vote.

I don't know how to speak to people who didn't vote because they were mad (the war, the economy)--that's like not eating because you're hungry. Less Blacks voted this time around than '08, while Hispanic voters tipped the balance to get a few Democratic candidates in or help them stay in office. Seniors, which I take as meaning anyone over 35 ha ha, came out in droves. Droves can transport as many as humvees.

I shall now write a poem not related to anything, which means it relates to the logic of the obstinate nonvoter. Here I go:

Poem Dedicated to the 40 Million Nonvoters

You are a push-up bra without underwire.
Like a shoplifter in an independent bookstore you steal my heart.
You are tax break for AIG. 
A golden parachute.

I've seen the best minds of my generation destroyed by PowerPoint.
You are slide 34.
You couldn't get a G.E.D. from the Electoral College.
The future will neither remember nor forget but when shiny aluminum is held to the sun
squint at your ignorance if you don't vote.

{. . . at your ignorance if you don't vote . . .}

_________
Sarah Sarai. The above poem is available nowhere. For that I expect your thanks.