Purim Spiel - Poem

 Walking home, I have a secret.

We'll get drunk tonight,

because we're friends with the leftists who win elections

and, well, its nice to get drunk sometimes.

Someone moved into that house on Pearl Street,

the one that's had broken windows as long as I've lived in the area.

We'll make cookies tonight,

Hamantaschen with apricot filling.

In fact,

let's get too drunk tonight,

for a weekday, anyway, 

and be hungover tomorrow,

and let the sun rise on the great big gallows we will have built,

having bowed to no one but God himself.

Walking home, I confess:

I think a better world is possible.