The F-35


Oh, how I have wanted to write a poem about the F-35!

About how angry I was when it was allowed

To crash the mountain skies above Burlington.

But when I visited Burlington recently

I realized that the F-35 is only part of the story

Of a town that has lost its way.

And then I could write the poem.

Burlington is not how I remember it.

(That’s a big problem with growing old,

Remembering when things were better.)

The homeless and the forsaken

Are the new tenants of the streets of Burlington

Which, if you are thinking of visiting,

You should know, isn’t the Burlington

That Bernie was mayor of anymore.

But Bernie isn’t Bernie anymore either.

He should retire and make space

For someone younger

Who doesn’t make deals with the devil.