I never expected to meet the President of the United States, let along interview him.
I had won a be a presidential press pool reporter for an hour contest by mailing in an essay on Jingoism along with seven proof of purchase rectangles from Quaker Cream of Wheat.
Later, between the security clearance form and my back ground check document was a pink desired meeting place form
in triplicate - with a spot for my name, ID number and 41 check boxes.
Above the boxes the form said to pick your top three interview locations, so I chose Oval Office, situation room, and Hot Air Balloon - just to be subversive.
It seems The POTUS was a prankster or just liked hot air balloons because there I was 30 feet in the air preparing to kiss clouds with our appointed leader.
The balloon was white on black
in the shape of Mickey the Mouse's original head -
the first patent Mickey
a catholic girls shoe 100 years out of style mickey
the basket: tradition wicker
painted red white and blue with corporate logos
and terse slogans air brushed over the stripes
"We The People" juxtaposed along side the McDonalds arches over a white stripe.
The familiar Quaker Logo I knew so well directly above a red stripe reading
"With us or against us."
The president enjoyed giving me a tour of his hot air balloon.
"This is the altimeter. These are the propane tanks. This string fires the blower... That box has our supplies - beef jerky, a thermos of miso soup, bourbon, and canned Georgia Peaches."
A few secret service agents let out slack on our guide line,
the president dressed as a Fourth of July Lincoln
sequins embroidering the stars of his suit,
candy stripped coat tails swaying,
pulled a string
a propane blower warmed up Mickey and we rose until the agents were 100 feet below us
- still letting out the guide line
- 200 feet -
- 300 -
We were a child's toy on a wooden stick on parade.
The media throng below us grew smaller / less focused.
After a snack, I was able to get down to my interview:
I asked him about gun control and he pointed out how England doesn't have guns so people just stab each other.
So I asked him how he feels about knife control.
He said he never goes anywhere without one.
"A knife?"
"Yes, This one." And he pulled a polished bowie from beneath his tailcoats and cut all but one of the ropes lashing the basket to our Mickey The Mouse.
I started to get nervous when I heard an agent below yell "He's at it again!"
So I switched to a new question and asked if he really knows Spanish and he answered with a question and retort - "Donde esta el cabron? El cabron es in su cabesa."
I ask him why he cut the ropes. He said "fear lasts longer than anger" and dropped his bowie towards the yelling agent below.
I demanded a follow up answer
He said "shoot", I said "I don't like guns", he said "jump", I said "you first, I'm not ready to die."
"exactly"
"answer my question"
"You're with me and I'm holding the knife."
"You threw the knife away."
"This knife." And he slid another Bowie, weather worn, from beneath his tailcoats and cut the long guideline lashing Mickey to the ground.
It was then that I noticed the other secret service agents waving madly like starving immigrants denied visas -- ripping madly at loaves held just over the border.
Which we were. / Just over the border. / Drifting into Mexico.
After the other agents stopped firing flares to get our attention and the chief executive waved off Marine One and then the secretary of state wearing one of those James Bond jet packs, the president pulled the rope again, this time twisting a dial on the blower.
We rose until the Rio Grande was as gone as John Wayne below us
me balancing in the angled basket / the president unnervingly stable.
I figured I should start to wrap things up, so I asked him why we were over Mexico
He said he was a hands on president
and likes to see things for himself
so he handed me his coat, the second knife and then jumped from the basket.
A photo from a news copter would later be shown on Fox News - the president, his hair, perfectly athletic, just outside the basket with the words: Freedom and Action on either side.
I watched him fall until his parachute popped and he steered himself back towards Washington.
Then I laid down in the angled basket,
gently twisting in the breeze
still rising.
I tried to make sense of my notes.
I used his knife to open a can of peaches.
Poetry by John Powers
Read 346 times
Written on 2007-01-16 at 19:33
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The Big Balloon
I never expected to meet the President of the United States, let along interview him.I had won a be a presidential press pool reporter for an hour contest by mailing in an essay on Jingoism along with seven proof of purchase rectangles from Quaker Cream of Wheat.
Later, between the security clearance form and my back ground check document was a pink desired meeting place form
in triplicate - with a spot for my name, ID number and 41 check boxes.
Above the boxes the form said to pick your top three interview locations, so I chose Oval Office, situation room, and Hot Air Balloon - just to be subversive.
It seems The POTUS was a prankster or just liked hot air balloons because there I was 30 feet in the air preparing to kiss clouds with our appointed leader.
The balloon was white on black
in the shape of Mickey the Mouse's original head -
the first patent Mickey
a catholic girls shoe 100 years out of style mickey
the basket: tradition wicker
painted red white and blue with corporate logos
and terse slogans air brushed over the stripes
"We The People" juxtaposed along side the McDonalds arches over a white stripe.
The familiar Quaker Logo I knew so well directly above a red stripe reading
"With us or against us."
The president enjoyed giving me a tour of his hot air balloon.
"This is the altimeter. These are the propane tanks. This string fires the blower... That box has our supplies - beef jerky, a thermos of miso soup, bourbon, and canned Georgia Peaches."
A few secret service agents let out slack on our guide line,
the president dressed as a Fourth of July Lincoln
sequins embroidering the stars of his suit,
candy stripped coat tails swaying,
pulled a string
a propane blower warmed up Mickey and we rose until the agents were 100 feet below us
- still letting out the guide line
- 200 feet -
- 300 -
We were a child's toy on a wooden stick on parade.
The media throng below us grew smaller / less focused.
After a snack, I was able to get down to my interview:
I asked him about gun control and he pointed out how England doesn't have guns so people just stab each other.
So I asked him how he feels about knife control.
He said he never goes anywhere without one.
"A knife?"
"Yes, This one." And he pulled a polished bowie from beneath his tailcoats and cut all but one of the ropes lashing the basket to our Mickey The Mouse.
I started to get nervous when I heard an agent below yell "He's at it again!"
So I switched to a new question and asked if he really knows Spanish and he answered with a question and retort - "Donde esta el cabron? El cabron es in su cabesa."
I ask him why he cut the ropes. He said "fear lasts longer than anger" and dropped his bowie towards the yelling agent below.
I demanded a follow up answer
He said "shoot", I said "I don't like guns", he said "jump", I said "you first, I'm not ready to die."
"exactly"
"answer my question"
"You're with me and I'm holding the knife."
"You threw the knife away."
"This knife." And he slid another Bowie, weather worn, from beneath his tailcoats and cut the long guideline lashing Mickey to the ground.
It was then that I noticed the other secret service agents waving madly like starving immigrants denied visas -- ripping madly at loaves held just over the border.
Which we were. / Just over the border. / Drifting into Mexico.
After the other agents stopped firing flares to get our attention and the chief executive waved off Marine One and then the secretary of state wearing one of those James Bond jet packs, the president pulled the rope again, this time twisting a dial on the blower.
We rose until the Rio Grande was as gone as John Wayne below us
me balancing in the angled basket / the president unnervingly stable.
I figured I should start to wrap things up, so I asked him why we were over Mexico
He said he was a hands on president
and likes to see things for himself
so he handed me his coat, the second knife and then jumped from the basket.
A photo from a news copter would later be shown on Fox News - the president, his hair, perfectly athletic, just outside the basket with the words: Freedom and Action on either side.
I watched him fall until his parachute popped and he steered himself back towards Washington.
Then I laid down in the angled basket,
gently twisting in the breeze
still rising.
I tried to make sense of my notes.
I used his knife to open a can of peaches.
Poetry by John Powers
Read 346 times
Written on 2007-01-16 at 19:33
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
