Swans Commentary » swans.com July 16, 2007  



Hail To The Chief Nose


by Peter Byrne





(Swans - July 16, 2007)  

She:  Why shouldn't I talk about his nose?

He:  You poor ninny. This man could be the next president of the United States of America.

She:  I know that. Mrs. Bronowski taught us in the sixth grade that we could all be president, except her nephew who was born in Poland.

He:  So you were disappointed when Ike beat you out? Be serious, this man is a candidate, a candidate to be the candidate. He's thrown his hat in the ring.

She:  Is there an election coming?

He:  Of course. Wake up. You vote for president on November 4, 2008.

She:  November 2008! I've got time for a nap.

He:  Wait a minute. The founders were smart. They built it all into the system.

She:  The who?

He:  The founders, the founders. I can see that Mrs. Bronowski didn't get very far with you kids. Okay, if it wasn't the founders it was some other shrewd cookie that thought up the primaries. The lead-up to the party convention gives you time to get to know your man.

She:  That's exactly what I'm doing, getting to know him, starting with his nose.

He:  You're arsy-versy as usual.

She:  Just look. It's like a handle. Up it goes to open his mouth. Then the puffs come out, one, two, three.

He:  Those are words coming out. He might be saying something important. Turn the sound on for crisake.

She:  Down goes the handle and, watch, the smile comes on.

He:  Sure, he's affable, like all candidates.

She:  Shush. Keep your eye on his nose. There it goes. He pushes the handle way down and the smile folds up. Now he's earnest as...

He:  ...as a candidate -- affable, earnest and on God's side between times while he changes gear.

She:  That nose is a role model.

He:  I may have told you once or twice over the years that I married a cracked pot. Put the sound on and listen to what the man stands for.

She:  What's your hurry? We have till November 4, 2008. Now look at that. It's a tear!

He:  Where?

She:  There in that crevice on his left cheek.

He:  Crevice? That's a line of care. You need that in a candidate. It proves he's human.

She:  I suppose he wants it there, just west of his nose. Otherwise he'd have it out.

He:  He'd have what out?

She:  That line of care. It's easy enough today.

He:  For heaven's sake, that's woman's talk. You mean cosmetic surgery?

She:  They all have it.

He:  He may have had a nip and a tuck. After all, he has to deploy his mug a lot on TV. Why not be at his best?

She:  His makeup is a pro job, top price range. You can barely make out the tide line.

He:  It's all part of serious politics these days. Now look at that. He's laughing. He must have made a joke.

She:  Talk about the handle doing a jig. Watch that nose bob up and down.

He:  That's what you call a hearty laugh. He really let rip.

She:  What do you think he was laughing at?

He:  He probably poked some fun at a rival in the primary. It was too good-natured to be a dig at the other party. He'll needle them later, a shade indignant, you know, anger kept under control, no screaming. All in good time.

She:  Does he like the other candidates in his party?

He:  Hell no! He'd like them to get off the planet.

She:  Then what's he so good-natured about?

He:  If he wins the nomination, he needs them.

She:  And if he loses?

He:  He needs them too.

She:  Wait. His eyelids have dropped way down. His nose is sinking.

He:  And you thought he was serious before! He's talking life and death now.

She:  He's mad at somebody.

He:  Plenty mad. I bet you ten bucks he's going for Bin Laden.

She:  His chin has tilted up and gone sharp.

He:  You can be pretty sure he's hitting the terrorists hard.

She:  Just as well the sound is off. Thumping his fist like that, he'd have the pooch growling.

He:  Growling? That dog hides under the bed when somebody sneezes. It makes you wonder.

She:  How do you mean?

He:  Didn't you hear the man? I mean you saw him. These are dangerous times. We ought to have a think about getting a real guard dog.

She:  I'm attached to our pooch.

He:  So am I, so am I. But it's something to think about.

She:  Let's put off thinking until after the election.

He:  All right. But remember, I warned you.

She:  Look, if the world is so dangerous, why shouldn't dogs be scared too?

He:  Forget that stuff. Will he get your vote?

She:  Who?

He:  The man with the nose.

She:  Nope. I told you. I'm for our pooch.


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Swans -- ISSN: 1554-4915
URL for this work: http://www.swans.com/library/art13/pbyrne40.html
Published July 16, 2007