It’s 1973.  Georgetown is blooming;
flower power blossoming the streets,
twisting pink stems around long corkscrew curls,
tie-dye T-shirts, purple bellbottom trousers,
pavements stoned with grateful Dead posters.

In our room the Washington Post slides under the door
headlining scandal as we dress for the visit.
News flashes frame reporters beside Watergate’s concrete curves;
talk of subpoenaed pages, denials in the shadows,
“some sinister force” of darkness erasing evidence.

Back on the boulevard the bumper stickers
on the Buicks shout “Impeach“, “Impeach with Honor“.
Bernstein and Woodward scoop suspects of dodgy deals,
investigate dirty dollars of secreted campaign funds
and devilish trysts between the FBI and CIA.

We;re there, our cab coasting up the White House drive,
its spruce frontage familiar as the CBS news.
A rigmarole of security entwines us,
guards like Jesus-freak robots, thin-lipped,
scan us through the x-ray bugs.

They examine your Kipper tie and wide lapels,
scrutinize your shaggy hair falling down your collar.
The flares on your Jermyn Street suit don’t measure up to regulation.
I pull down my mini skirt and shoot them a convent-girl smile.
Gritting their teeth, they wave us through.

Our trendy boots sink into soft pile carpets,
Presidential portraits line bitter-sweet yellow corridors;
a deception of order in the almost silence
of whispering doors shielding vipers of conspiracy,
deep throat wiretapping in the concealed plumbing.

We seek murkiness in the well-polished rooms,
but exit as loyalty leaks through the back door –
the Oval office blown open by a typhoon of satanic intrigue:
“I’m not a crook” is the President’s hollow refrain as we leave
but the dogs on the scent know better: go in for the kill.

Trapped by his own Machiavellian machinations of divine kingship,
Nixon weaves tape webs of tangents, tedium and stonewall;
we’re agog, as the world watches a President charm-disarmed,
no cigar or dirty dress present here, to tormented confession;
just Frost’s camouflaged thorn of “hello, good morning and welcome” guile.