Shouts from
Friendly women
In painted vans
Of flags and
Faces familiar.
We look upon
Tinted windows
Cracked slightly
For running
Wires.
Intermittent
Fanfare herds
Silence out
To pasture.
Dusty air clouds
Tires and tracks
As they drive on
Promoting futures
Yet unseen.
Trying to sell trust,
Or perhaps,
Trying to buy it?
Intangible markets
Make for
Unpredictable trends
And inflation.
Around the block,
Past the wooden
Fences and concrete
Supports,
Across bumpy
Roads unpaved.
Who is this
Mystery man
Who wants us
To listen?
The music and
The friendly woman
Lead the parade;
A dead man
Caravan.
Composed 06/14/2012
Author’s note: National elections were held in Mongolia back in June of this year. In the villages, people would fly flags for the party of their choice. It was interesting to see all the flags floating above the homes. There would alos be vans that drove up and down the busted dirt roads, blaring slogans and what one can only infer to be some form of propaganda. During election day, everyone has to take down their flags. Everyone in the village gets the day off to vote. In honor of the upcoming American elections, I thought I’d share this piece of Mongolian political tradition.
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