Cursed Costume

Dia de los Muertos says it all for me:
‘Tis the Day of the Dead after Halloween.

Dead ‘cause I’m cursed, stuck in my guise
Forced to be someone who I loathe and despise.

I thought it’d be funny, a riotous thrill
To dress as a candidate seeking the Hill.

Days before the election and then a year after
I’ll look like this idiot and suffer the laughter.

What do I do? This doesn’t seem fair
Will I get egged? Does anyone care?

My partner in crime chose the opponent,
Our year-long visage: a harsh component.

Others at the party will be sexy or cool.
A skimpy nurse for a year, or a lifeguard at the pool.

But me and my spouse? Politics was our thing.
As this next year moves on, people will sing:

“Here comes the President and the person who lost.
They’re living together? Are their mind’s tossed?”

The curse will end some day. Until then, we’re trumped.
My spouse and myself: we’re not very pumped.

Line Count: 20