dear mr. president,
a lot of people sure have pinned their hopes on you. are hopes light, like balloons and feathers, so that you might ascend straight up like elijah one day? or are they heavy, becoming burdensome once transferred, like insignificant pebbles which nonetheless sink to the bottom of the ocean floor? are your shoes filling up with salt water, born of so many tears, causing your soles to squeak and your socks to rub blisters into your protruding ankle bones? (for even you have ankle bones, just like the rest of us.) will the oceans ever dry out? will you ever have clean socks again? will those hopes, like so many stones and feathers, yield a giant band-aid on this great nation or only be used to tickle the lucky and forever bruise the downtrodden? are you really ready to learn what hope is? and finally, is there an end to hope, like our oil reserves and bailout fund and number of young who may be sacrificed in the name of selfish, selfish war?
don't let my questions alarm you. i am glad you are willing to take this on. please keep walking, though your soles may squeak, and audaciously confront our tears and oceans of regret and self-indulgent apathy. a few of us are trying to make things better. your election is one of the most significant events in my life, so in that way, hope has already won.
by the way, your kids seem rad, not to mention first lady michelle. would y'all like to come to dinner at my house and meet my cats?
yours truly, a gentle patriot,
ann crews melton
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