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November 2, 2004—Tim Rhomberg
Election Day.
Stephen Hawking's computer is speaking. He is ten feet away. He was five feet away when he rolled by, his wife holding his head in her hands. Now he is ten feet away, on a platform, and in a robot voice his computer is apologizing for the pronunciation of Iraqi names. These are the names of Iraqis who are dead, who once were alive, but were killed in the war. He reads twenty names. Scientists have counted these dead people and have reported that there at least 100,000 more. Stephen Hawking's computer is speaking. I am thinking, looking up at the statue in the center of Trafalgar Square, about the day. It is Election Day in America, but we have six hours difference between us. We will not know results until Thursday, though we stay up till 6AM anyway, watching red and blue maps, pundits hopping around computer generated graphics - hoping, silently praying for just one state to be called
the other way, or for a definite verdict in Ohio. We
look at the long face of our hope and think it is possible. It is not until that Thursday, that terrible Thursday morning, when we finally come to grips with reality. I see it on the television screen and I can't believe it. I read the newspaper headlines and will them to change. They don't. We are going back in December for four more years.
The newspaper said "Oh, God."
White font surrounded by black.
And I knew then,
that the Idiot King was back.
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