50-50ish

The polling isn’t telling much at all;
The voters are uncertain.  I regret,
Of all the years I had to make a bet
To write a daily poem, that it’d fall
On one monotonous election year.
It’s Mitt, or it’s Barack.  And so it goes.
The poetry is easy, when it flows
From oft-repeated names that reappear
In any poll or headline.  Drudge has got
A poll suggesting that Barack would win,
Assuming that the error margin’s thin.
And, knowing that it wouldn’t be a lot,
The poll is here proclaiming it’s a fight,
Which we had known before it came to light.
This subject matter’s tiresome.  Goodnight.