His Ghost

Being the President

must be like walking with your guardian angels

everyday  Except you could

talk to them, hear about their days,

maybe get to know their families  You’d see their 

faces as they dove over top of you  Looking

back as the shots rang out  Shock waves

rang out and spattered you  On the pavement

your angel gets his wings  You are alive

and his soul just left the solar system  No more

talk of ordinary days or afternoons on the stoop

No more wedding photos or Graduation celebrations,

birthdays, or nice chat at the end of the drive way

Your bullet got him cold,

as you covered your eyes

you didn’t see who was falling for you  NO surprise

No you were not caught by surprise  U turned into 

somebody who would stop bullets so the President 

could cast a vote in your favor  You weren’t alive 

to see the President take over your home  Deal away

your job over a game of Poker with the Other Guy

But you were still his angel  He walked behind you

so people could walk behind him  Walk behind him

don’t run after shadows  Don’t turn into 

a shadow of a man who’s so willing give up his ghost.