Fighting Over the Bill - a Poetic Catch at a Boxing Match

An election is coming.
Universal peace is declared,
and the foxes have a sincere interest
in prolonging the lives of the poultry.
T.S. Eliot
(1888 - 1965)

The boxers take their corners,
Prepare to slug it out.
The refs become bullhorners,
As audiences doubt.

Another fighter interferes,
All blustery and brash;
And, though sincere this man appears,
He's full of balderdash.

His place is elsewhere, not the ring,
Though he has fought before.
The boxers both can feel the sting
And point him to the door.

The battle belongs not to him,
Despite his angry voice.
His time has gone; his light grows dim.
He doesn't have a choice.

The ring officials send him on;
The boxers aim their mitts.
And so begins a marathon
Of slugs and counter-hits.

And yet, to those who listen best,
This angry game of skill
No longer is a boxing test;
They're fighting 'bout the Bill.

One throws a punch, and one falls down;
The third man utters, "Ouch!"
Despite his empathy, this clown
Will soon sleep on the couch.