The B.A.U.B.

I have opposed it 
From the beginning,
Since that first photo
Of that destructive claw
And wires hanging 
From the remnants 
Of the outer wall. 
The stabbing pain
Of loss of something
That had been shared,
Destroyed by 
One man’s wishes.
I said it then:
It’s not his house,
He is a temporary 
Resident.

But he claimed it was
His right by his office
To do what he wanted,
To “beautify” what had
Become run-down,
To build this bigger
And better and 
Much-needed and 
Wanted by all
B.A.U.B.
He ignored the voices
That complained
And bemoaned the loss,
Waving blueprints
And sketches 
And fabric swatches.
He ignored the voices
That protested
Just as he ignored
The duties he should
Have been doing.

He spent and spent –
Not his money,
So why not? –
While those he was
Elected to serve
Struggled to buy
Food and gas
And to pay their
Medical bills.
Why not? – He
Was not the one 
Suffering and
Struggling.

But today it came:
A court ruling,
Proclaiming him,
“A temporary tenant,
Not the owner,”
Ordering that he 
Halt construction.
Stop the B.A.U.B. 
Of course, our version
Of Veruca Salt
Threw a tantrum,
Claiming the B.A.U.B
Was all about 
National security.
He waved those
Blueprints and
Stomped his feet
And bemoaned 
His golden bunker,
Threatening to take
His case to 
His buddies
At that higher court.

So that order 
May be overturned
And who in power
Has the courage
To enforce it?
But for now,
We can smile,
Just a bit, 
At him bemoaning
His B.A.U.B.,
His Big Ass Ugly
Ballroom.