I drop F bombs on the campaign trail when points don’t come through. Fucking deplore economic inequality in Dubuque, fucking deplore right-wing fundamentalism. Despise seeing unions fucked, in Youngstown.
They cheer, enthusiasm rushing into the air. I suppress reluctance, childhood lessons about G-rated language. Now they listen to fucking plans for student debt, plans to crush credit card company motherfuckers.
There are mashups of F bombs. Fact checkers analyze. Listicles of my F bombs abound. No one speaks of plans for income inequality, global warming.
Everything fought for diluted.
I still can’t let go of the F bombs.
Someone’s half-listening.