are crying.
they are upset at the results
of the election.
it's seven in the morning,
they look
beat and weary,
hungover.
we tried
so hard to villainize
the other side,
they say as one.
we bent the news,
we exaggerated
and lied.
all for nought.
we thought we could
turn the tide,
brainwash
their minds. but sadly, no.
they weren't as stupid
as we thought they were.
each broadcaster has a box
of Kleenex
to dry their eyes.
the make-up is running
down their faces.
four racoons sitting in
the studio light.
men and women.
the sobbing is pathetic.
professionals,
so called.
unbiased, professionals,
hardly.
the director breaks
for a commercial,
shaking his head
and sighs.
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