My mother is the type,
who even if good old Santa Clause
is running for the local election,
would not vote for an obese white man.
for her the “X” is so precious,
you could say she thinks of herself,
as bigger than the whole electoral college.
She will never write on a festive card,
the word “X Mas” instead of Christmas
or do basic Algebra,
only telling me, how beautiful it was,
when I came out of her womb,
how a surgical aXe came useful that morning,
to cut the umbilical cord.
I guess 40 years ago, I had her vote. Her “X”.
I was the “X” in her X factor.
While she changes TV channels in haste now,
Every time she sees or hears,
An obese white man coming on TV,
A type absent of a silver beard; who they call,
democracy’s big daddy.
