Being a political campaign manager,
is like pulling wings off of flies.
Except for the poor,
filthy creatures,
don’t deserve that type of torture,
while the campaign manager does.

Campaigns are tough as hell,
and if your candidate wins,
that’s where you’ll probably end up,
steered there by all,
the empty promises.
Carried by a wingless fly.

Campaigns are loathsome.
The lies.
The attacks,
and attacking.
More heartburn,
compliments of the
fast food,
late nights,
early mornings and,
the colleagues’ coffee-breath,
wafting into your face,
as they yell only inches away
from your nose.

The campaign manager,
wishing he could float away,
on the red, white and blue,
campaign event balloons,
wishing he never returns,
at least not until,
the next campaign.

Every voter always seems,
to have a question,
at the wrong time,
and the campaign manager,
always has the answer,
“Not to my recollection.”
“We’re looking into the matter.”
“No comment,”
******* off the,
communications director.

Everyone has an agenda,
but none more,
important than putting,
more copy paper in the printer,
for the campaign manager,
to begin printing up resumes,
for the next campaign.
And, those are the days,
when the candidate is only,
behind by four points.

Everyone has a vote,
and some have two,
or so it seems.
Grab those votes!
Or at least as many,
as the field director says.

But once the first,
Tuesday of November,
has come and gone,
you are left looking,
for a friend.
Has anyone seen,
a fly buzzing around here,
to talk to?