Enough of booze. I want the news.
Put down that spritzer. Get Wolf Blitzer.
Wound me with your tales of fraud, or murders implicating Prince of Saud
Or you can nourish my depression. Just say the Senate’ s gone in session.
Regale me with embezzlement. Let bullets mangle innocents
Rising tides ah there’s a menace.
Times Square soon as wet as Venice
Yes, cable news that is my beef. Onslaughts of sin without relief.
No solace offers Nicolle Wallace. Nor Chuck Todd or Axelrod.
A thunderbolt from Lester Holt? No. Katie Kur remains remote.
Not even Trump that son of a bitch ’ll
Bow before Andrea Mitchell
But hark what is that rhythmic whisper, that distant trill, that point of light just o’er the hill.
Horse and rider coming nearer. A blessed call e’er sounding clearer
Ali Vitali, Ali Vitali. It is she. A reporter’s name to set us free.
Ali Vitali, Ali Vitali
Grilling the White House or boiling in Chad. Reporting conservative or rad
Ali Vitali, Ali Vitali
Rollicking lightly on the air. A world aflame soothed by your name
How it dances on the tongue, a euphonious gallop toward parts unknown.
I’d follow you to Alpine tors, through knee-high grass or Scottish moors
For if the news is bad
At least its yours.
BERNARD HOLLAND