Which came first?

<em>The bones of the American election are still being picked over</em>

My constitution is strong

as an oxymoron. This is why

I have been counting chickens

with egg on my face.

Everything here is hazy, crazy:

I'm in a sunshine state

without an egg to stand on.

Have to shell out for a chicken.

My fathers were founders keepers.

The eggs they sucked have come

home to roost. They laid down

rules, and they flew the coop

by the skin of a chicken.

Or a turkey. In the funny farm

at high noon, our eggheads cluck

in the dead heat.

This article first appeared in the 20 November 2000 issue of the New Statesman, The New Statesman Interview - Lord Falconer