The tax bill they’d sent to the Senate that day,

GOP’ers were eager for hearth, home, and spouse.

’Twas the week before recess, and all through the House,

Was cause to celebrate in that congressional way.

When, what, to their merry-making eyes should appear?

But a “technical” — a glitch — to stifle their cheers.

There appeared a white-haired man – Old Saint Nick? But complaining, and stern?

No! Not Santa – ’twas Senator Sanders, and they felt the Bern.

As he rapidly recited a procedural matter, what they heard,

An act named for Byrd had caused all the clatter.

“No Ryan! No Brady! No Scalise! McCarthy!


“McMorris Rodgers! You’ll all have to revote and pass it tomorrow!”

“Back to your desks! Back to the floor!

“Now dash away! Give cash away to the rich from the poor!”

And the Republicans cancelled their plans and unwrapped their gifts,

They rebooked their flights, rearranged Ubers and Lyfts,

And the resistors in their T-shirts and their pink knitted caps,

Nestled in their beds, hopeful! Their iPads and phones on their laps.

Hoping to wake to a reveille of tweets and alerts,

Telling them the lawmakers rethought it, and their votes were reversed!

And all through the night as they slumbered and snored,

Their dreams dancing with replays of that victory o’er Roy Moore.

They’d been good little rebels all through the year,

With their calls, marches, and protests enlisting liked-minded peers.

But they woke to a stream from the Tweeter-in-chief about taxes,

Their hopes? Soon dashed; Wishes? Not in practice.

And from the White House they watched him insist,

“This was good for all Americans,” despite their collective raised fist,

Quickly experts called it confusing, complex, a near fraud,

To calculate costs to homeowners, unincorporated businesses and those working abroad,

Treasury and IRS staff would need to work long into the night,


Letting dinners get cold, and missing holiday flights.

While downcast “resisters” shuffled back to their desks and work pods,

And tried not to think of the plan’s beneficiaries’ cash wads.

And just then, a new cry, growing louder, not duller:

“Yes, of course! We forgot! We can still root for Mueller!”

Debra A. Klein is a writer in San Francisco. Follow her on Twitter @IWishIHadTyped.