Miss Coulter. my sister’s stuffed elephant

Somewhere distant and searching an elephant cries out.

Searching for its self. Lost amongst the chaos. Forgotten...

Stripped of it's ivory and dying.

Scattering. Running.

Screaming out for help.

She's weeping. Weakness.

Overthrown by new ideology.

By time.

By that haunting bastard in Ford's Theatre. By the cries of Reagan era disbelief.

Farewell my old friend. As you cry out to the nothing.

Broker that deal and watch us crumble.