warring factions calling each, the other one, misguided.

A slippery slope, no hope, no hope, and both are quite sheer sided.

Two ships of fools without clear rules about to be collided.

The market is our shining harbor where the rich folks play.

But on the streets homes made of sheets and boxes mar the way.

The dial-up universe is where the voters have their say.

While there are zones without i-phones that hint of judgement day.

There’s some who’d die to save their guns and praise confederation.

Others cite the children killed while seeking education.

Close the borders, screams one side, we must have separation.

On the news, there’s lies and facts, depending on the station.

In this country painted red, some edges are still green.

Others find the blues their muse and hunker in between.

It’s been shown the colors gold and orange can turn mean.

So, here’s a chance for one more dance. Begin the last beguine.