The President's in our bed

The president's about
to give her speech
while protesters
set up shop in
all regions possible.
It doesn't help
that it's raining
at least for the
poor protesters.
We're here though
inside the comfort
of you
air-conditioned room -
your hand roaming
all over my body
while you give
me a commentary
on the merits of each
possible presidential
candidate for
next year's election
while you intersperse
questions
on how your
hands make me feel.
I'm caught between just
fucking you right now
or slapping your hard
and pretend
that I give a shit
about the politics
of my country.
But I do neither,
I instead smile
a moan
whisper a sigh
and sink into
your fingers.