“In the wee small hours of the morning…”
A Sinatra song on his mind. Commercials for
Miracle Prosperity Spring Water on his TV, and he’s
tempted to call. It’s not worth it, he knows, but what if?
“While the whole wide world is fast asleep…”
It’s the wee small hours of the morning of Election Day.
Does it matter what he does now? Vote one way,
vote the other; will it ever be 1955 again?
“When your lonely heart has learned its lesson…”
Whether or not he votes, he loses. Whether or not he
wins, he loses. Perfect time to buy what they’re selling.
Perfect time to croon, sip, and try to go back to sleep.