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~New Moon~

The president

of the United States

sits on the white house lawn

with his dog.

It is around midnight.

He can see the moon, clearly,

and how it's covered with 

swimming pools

that dried-up many years ago.

Earlier that evening

he read about the drought

in California, and, as he looks at the

dried-up swimming pools of the moon,

he prays Los Angeles

doesn't suffer the same fate.

He knows

if the swimming pools

of Los Angeles

dry-up,

the life guards and pool boys there,

while in line to apply for unemployment

benefits, will turn their ire 

towards the nation's capitol, and mutter:

"It's all your fault, Mr. President,

that Los Angeles is now the new moon."

D. B. Tompsett